The Final Whistle on Lies

n five years was at my nep

rching for her. My fiancée. The woman who vanished on her way t

er, Mark. She held a baby, and another small child

party faded into a low hum. My heart hammer

ammates, my parents, everyone. They all

only fool

, a wide, proud smile on his face.

You look like you

re was a bad car accident on her way to that interview. I took her t

a conspiratorial whisper. "We fell in love

is smile turning

m, you take what you want.

't just tilt.

ss nights staring at her picture. The depression that swallowed me whole after my career-ending injury felt like a minor

ruel, twisted joke, an

no recognition, no shared history. Just a cool dismissal. She

wife. My s

t. My parents avoided my eyes. My teammates shuffled

ched me suffer for five

ng in. I had to get out. I turned and walked, stumbli

tant companion. But this, this was a fresh wound, ripped open

I stared at my reflection in the mirror. The

lief, a sharp, clear note in the chaotic symphony of bet

to the broken man i

But now I knew the reason. She wasn'