More Than Ashes

my duffel bag on the floor and sat on the edge of the stiff, lumpy bed. The quiet was absolute. There was no blender whirring, no muffled phone calls from the next room, no sense of waiting for a ke

settled deep in my bones, that

Tom. "Hey, can I crash on

, man. Wha

s place," I sa

other questions asked. True

to confirm the truth that I already knew. About an hour later, a familiar silver sports car pulled up to the main entrance. Daniel got out. He wasn't limping or hunched over in the throes of a panic attack. He

his own key. He could come and go as he pleased. The thought was sickening. How many times had he been there when I wasn't? How many of her "late nights at the office" were actually cozy e

on. Two shadows moved behind the blinds, their silhouettes merging for a moment. It was so clear, so blatant. My presence had

spect for me, for my grief, for what we supposedly had. She hadn't just neglected me, she had built a secret life on the foundation of my tragedy. She used my pain

ways whispered. The expensive bottle of wine in the fridge that she said a PR firm had sent, but was Daniel's favorite vintage. I had been living in the middle of their affair,

stand. I had pushed away the people who were trying to warn me, all to protect her and her lies. The memory made my face burn with shame. I had let my l

It was a final, brutal confirmation of everything I had suspected. The relationship wasn't broken, it had been a fraud from the start. And the worst part was, I had let i