Burn His World: A Wife's Fury

k. I didn't look back. I didn't want to see him choosing her again. Inside, I sank onto the

concrete and steel skeletons, under a sky streaked with sunset, he had knelt and told me he wanted to build a life with me, a lif

ty, was the most fragile architecture of

didn't look at me. He busied himself wi

partum depression," he said, his tone clinical. "She

d not

ued, finally meeting my eyes. "I don't think you're fi

lid down my spine. "

cal conclusion in the world. "She feels a great sense of responsibility for wh

my son to the brink of death. H

a rage so profound it felt like it could split the

a hand through his perfectly styled hair. "You're

ken sound. "Or best for your campaign?

rned, his voice low and threatening. "There

ill lying

changing the subject. "A conference in Chicago. When

hout a back

ces caught my eye. It was an entertainment news segment. "Rising political star Gordon Ortiz was spotted ge

rs, his head bent close to hers, whispering in her ear. She was laughing, her head thrown

ad become a kind of numbness. I thought of his touch, once so tender, now reserved

ack. Not to leave, not yet. But to erase. I took down our wedding photos, our vacation pictures, every smil

a stack of old shoe boxes, my hand brushed against someth

iolation of privacy. But privacy was a luxury I could no l

ooping, girlish script, a chro

draiser. He's even more handsome than I remember. He's da

ed. I made him his favorite tea. He told me I was a good listener, that

I turned the page,

be so pure. She has no idea. She has no idea that the night before he proposed to her, he was with me. He wa

It wasn't just a political dalliance. It was a lie. Our entire marriage, from the very beginning, wa

tiff, robotic. I turned to the last

errible. He's with me now. He held me and told me not to worry. He said, 'On

ollector of promises, scattering them like seeds, not car

hed every single page. Evidence.

. I shoved the diary back into its hiding

on. He was

here?" he asked, his ey

old blanket," I lied, my

the diary, half-hidden by a shoe box, and for a split second, I saw a flicker of panic in his

ftening. "Let's go. It's time t

ICU, the head nurse met us at the reception d

r voice trembling slightly. "I tho

are you talking about?" I as

wringing her hands. "She said you sent her. She had t

don caught me just before I fainted

ght with a forced calm I knew was for his ow