A Final Goodbye, A Lasting Mark

my body, but I ignored the constant pain to be the perfect,

Instead, his young protégée sent me a photo of them wr

her. I soon discovered she was pregnant-he was building

y mother for comfort,

man," she said. "

n health, but he and my family abandoned me when

wn diagnosis: terminal brain

ie a victim. I was going to live my last days for myself, and h

pte

Brya

not with a bang, but with the suffo

. Then midnight

below blurring into a watercolor mess of neon and shadow. Each gust of wind felt li

ted in my joints and radiated outward, a slow burn that left me perpetually exhausted. I pulled the c

cture from our honeymoon in Santorini, his charismatic smile blindingly bright

all button for

mail.

Clay. Leave

ld soothe any of my anxieties, now sounded

sage history. The last tex

unning late. Don' t

y. Everythi

: Love

ere marked as 'Delive

cture world who lived by his calendar, but he was also meticulous. He alw

ble blinked accusi

cking in. It's gettin

ll going? Getting a little

ust let me know you're

washed over me, and I gripped the arm of the sofa, my knuckles white. My doctors had dismissed it as stress, hy

kness, felt like more than stress. It felt l

e top of my screen, and my

a text fro

nd request on

e wants to be

t-a young woman, probably in her mid-twenties, with sharp, intelligent eyes

Associates. Building a futu

w protégée, the one he' d been raving about for week

crept up my spine. Why would his young, ambitious colleag

profile. It was public. The top post

photo. A

ktail glasses were raised in a toast. One hand was unmistakably male, strong, with the silv

inine, with perfectly manicured

he photo was a single

the man who sees my fu

room. My mind raced, trying to find a logical explanation. A team cele

distorted image of the person holding the phone. It was her. Kiersten Lowe

accord, hit the 'Confirm'

message popped up

s a p

irectl

His arm was draped possessively around her shoulders, and he was laughing, a full-throated, joyful laugh I hadn

like a cou

the hardwood floor. The screen didn' t crack, but somethi

s, our favorite Italian restaurant. The place he took me on our first anniversary,

And I had just willingly walked onto

the phone. I opened our message thread aga

s fueled by a sudden, white-hot rage that bu

ho is she

: Answ

WHERE

time to the stranger who ha

t is this?

le

th fr

my husband' s betrayal, the rain outside finally slowing to a miserable, weeping driz

nightmare. In the dream, I was standing in a field of withered flowers. Clayton was there, across the f

iel," he said, his voice echoing in the

f his words sharper than any real-life

ed on the flo

ge from Kie

to my question. It

ehind her, his hands on her waist, guiding her as she stirred something in a pot on the stove.

ime of shared meals and qu

ng those memories

en systematically demolished, and the architect of my destruct

ped a frantic, furious message to Kiersten, m

ou doing? Who do y

destroying a ma

o think she might ignore me again. Then, the

-