The Unseen Wife's Six-Year Sacrifice
his son, a role I took on to repay a debt. I poured my soul into a f
ed at our family portrait and screamed that he wa
only link to my old life. My husband's only re
crifice, that single act of
ce papers, my husband
ng this all aw
e. "That dog was more famil
pte
Hughe
f our family finally shattered, and it started w
ouring my soul into a home that never felt like mine, for a family that never truly saw me. Today was supposed to be a milestone. The famil
than to entertain. Hector was on the sofa, scrolling through his tablet, and Jacob was building a
ht, too eager. I propped the large portrait aga
tly on the back of his chair. Jacob was seated on his father' s lap, a rare,
s father's, landing on the portrait. His small face, usual
he stated, his vo
cked. I forced a smile. "Why not
trait, and jabbed a small finger at
x years of patient breakfasts he refused to eat, of bedtime stories he ignored, of ge
oice trembling slightly.
rising. "You're not my mom! I want He
ce to his deceased wife, Geneva. The woman Jacob adored because she looked like the mot
hing, anything. He finally set down his tablet, his gaze unreadable. He
real heat. It was the voice he used for minor business
rieked, his face turn
washed over me in a tidal wave. Six years of trying, of hoping, of preten
so, so
ords tasting like ash in my mo
ntinued shouts fading behind me. I went to the sunroom, my sanctuary
r legal guardian. The woman who, with the be
ight?" her voice was crisp
to stream down my face. "Gladys," I choked
h a guilt I knew she'd carried for six years. "I know. I'm sorry, my dear. I thought..
"I married him to repay you for taking me in. To give Jacob the home you
ct was up. My oblig
cob stood in the doorway, his small face contorted with rage. He had thrown
th a venom that was terrifying in a six-year-old. "Yo
in. My heart felt hollow. "I'm leaving, Jaco
!" he
r into an unshakeable resolve. I was walking towards the stairs when
He didn't ask if I was okay. He didn't even glance at the h
Jacob wailed, running to h
ng him, Almeda. You're always so dramatic. Why can't
ooped Jacob into his arms, comforting him with soft murm
one last look at the portrait on the floor. My face in the photo
l chimed. A moment later, Helene's voice,
favorite coconut cream cake f
, holding a pristine cake box. She looked up and our eyes
osed my bedroom door, the soft click echo