Beyond Betrayal: Finding Her Own Path

the ghost of the woman she used to be. She moved into the dormitory provided by her news ag

noticed the cha

okay with you and Mark?" a fellow reporter,

lied, offering a tight-lipped sm

unspoken, traveled fast. The

by the coffee machine. "She always had that wounded-bird look.

r building. Says Detective Johnson is over at the wid

ness. She had been so blind, wrapped up in her love and her caree

utting the conversation short.

familiar rhythm of research and writ

e office, she saw him. Mark was standing

What the hell is this, Ava? You move out w

ut it didn't scare her an

. "Let go of me, Mark. I'm living

ed. "You're runn

" she said, her voice as

e can talk this out. I know I've been... distracted. But Sarah needs me. She' s the wi

e understanding could she be? Understanding that her needs c

derstanding," she said

, pl

red as if from nowhere, her face pale and tear-str

or the passersby to hear. "It' s all my fault. I' ve been too much of

le sacrifice. People were starting to stop and stare, th

wife? She looks so cold." "Poor wo

he eyes of the crow

r fault, Sarah," he said, his voice ringing with conviction. "Don't say that. I p

to her, too. On their wedding day, he had promised to love and c

cker of triumph in her tear-filled eyes. "Thank you, Mar

d had

her voice sharp and clear,

flin

is my husband. The man who shares my bed. The man who holds me at night." Sh

e a woman who wears the perfume my husband bought her, who eats the meal

apped skin. The crowd murmured, their expr

a blotchy red. "That'

bout the expensive French hand cream,

e. Then, with a theatrical gasp, her eyes rolled back into

rk cried ou

look of pure hatred before turning and rushing towards his car, leavi