Goodbye, I'm Not Your Substitute Wife Anymore

n being a ghost in my own opulent home. My architect husband, Mark, kept ou

with portraits of Emily, his childhood sweetheart, his "one true love

glect of me complete. He spent endless nights by her side, le

n who could only offer polite indifference? The pain wasn't just his bet

ture on a blank sheet of paper, and then the real work would begin. He wouldn't even know what hit him, consumed as