The Wife He Thought He Buried

of the art building, the sky h

her. She halted beneath the narrow concrete ov

ok perched precariously on top, its spiral spine digging into her palm. A handful of loose charcoal studie

noticing the stitches. If she tried to stuff all her books inside, the seam

she adjusted her grip, leaving h

arely

ged at her lips. Art cla

t like uncovering some hidden part of herself. Every shade she added made the blank

l and ink, chasing the way light fell across the face. The result still fe

was enou

ced toward the road. A single raindrop fell against h

ky spl

Oh

er darkened her clothes, and her worn flats splashed through the growing puddles. Home was close. Just around the corner, pa

ld have somethi

ter yet

ered You are beautiful when even Chloe didn't believe it. The woman who told her that being poor didn't make

ould have survived all those years

really tired, though not the ki

the laughter that followed her through corridors. Tired o

he'd spent the day doing what she

was

ive silhouettes emerged th

s steps

boys. She knew them.

hinking about the price, whose names seemed to travel faster than they did. They were al

ss the sidewalk,

e in Chloe's arms and snorted. "Stil

ed schoolbag. "Can that thin

ter cut thro

them. One of the boys moved directly into her p

Chloe w

a mocking smile. "Who would want to look

laughe

k. She said nothing. She had learned that answe

meone muttered. "S

r throat tight. She didn't

whispered. "Jus

eft her mouth before o

k was the first to hit the pavement, followed by her paintings. Chloe fel

stared. One of her drawi

No

s into gray streaks. Another sketch slipped from the pile and spun toward the gut

rain came harder. It poured over her hair, her face, her lashes, washing everythi

that wa

, though most were ruined. She didn't look at th

nothing to them. She kept to herself,

they simply le

'd worked on all afternoon. The edges had frayed. Th

tared

spent years telling her otherwise, Chloe kne

f being talented if no one would ever see it? Maybe her classmates were ri

esture was useless. Rain imm

Not hurried footsteps. Slow, measured f

oze and l

at the shoulders. Water ran from his dark hair and traced the sharp lines of his f

istant about his expre

the entire day walk

m his lungs. The rain made everything worse. He had refused the driver, refused the car, refused an

pavement, surrounded by ruined drawings

ed like when pain became too much to carry. He had spent years carrying his ow

e crushed the same way. Especial

paintings. That was what made

e last of her things. Then a shadow f

rner, protecting what remained dry. Chloe stared. He wasn't laughing. He wasn't

hed, but the proportions were surprisingly precise. The shadows around the ey

nother. His gaz

d at Chloe. "Y

nod

ned to the page

le words. N

e's breat

ketch slightly. "Y

aid that, at least not without laughing afterwa

oosened, and the tears

drawings with trembli

handed back the rest of the

he s

didn't ask for his. To him, she was s

d and wal

l he became nothing more than a dark silhouette against the gray. She d

the last of her t

and her hair clung to her cheeks. She slipped through the back door

," she cal

mewhere down the hallway. Chloe s

. Some were ruined beyond saving. Others were merely wrinkled. She worked pa

d, its corners torn, its surface mottled b

d the paper w

ve a go

ound her lips, a

clean page. She stared at it for a lo

ardless. A pair of observant eyes. Dark hair. A strong nose. A de

at the emerging fa

ack, Chloe stared at the finished portrait. She had captured him almost perfectly. The man

came from. But he had looked at something she had cr

e, that w

ath the portrait, in small ha

Str