Hollow

ater. Jasper never came bac

Our dream home. Every line, every window, every shade of white had been a joint decision, a test

miliar scent of my vanilla and sandalwood candles. It was a cloying, sweet floral perfume. Ki

d of soft humming t

my favorite silk robe-the one Jasper had bought me for our anniversary. My jewelry box was

l necklace, letting the delicate

d feigned innocence. She didn't look ill. She looked vibrant, triumphant. "Jas

"He said you wouldn't mind. Since, you

ld my engagement ring and wedding band. The ring was a custom piece I had designed m

around the platinum band. She tried to sli

a smug little smile playing on her lips. "How he

chest, burning away the numbn

nstant, crocodile tears. "I-I'm sorry. I was just ad

, put i

s goin

ron, the one with the silly 'Kiss the Architect' slogan I'd bought

d face to my cold, hard expression. His

d. "Can't you see you're upsetting her? S

rous? I was being asked to be generous to the w

angerously low, "is mine. I wan

over to Kimberley, gently taking the ring from her grasp. For a h

tening. "Don't worry, darling. I'll buy

g-our ring, our promise, our entire history-into the open, h

Kimberley needs this room. It has the best light and the en-suite bathr

rley and led her out of the room, murmuring soothing words to

's favorites: pan-seared scallops, lobster bisque, grilled asparagus. Every dish

sheen of oil I recognized with

after I'd accidentally eaten a cookie with peanut butter filling. He'd held my hand while the doctors adm

shell from Kimberley's lobster, so absorbed he

nce memorized my every preference, my every fear, now served

bling as I picked up my cho

photo albums. He led her to the study, a place that had always been our

began to pack the few remaining belongings that he hadn't already discarded. There wasn't muc

study downstairs, followed by

d down

g shards of glass was the torn, crumpled photograph of my mother. It was the only picture I had of her

nd to her chest. "I am so, so clumsy. I just want

ts. "It's just a picture, Kimberley, don't worry about it

he negative was lost years ago. Th

ng to piece together the fragments of my mother's smiling face. A sliver of glass sliced into my fingertip. I didn't ev

and hot, blurring the sh

fussing over Kimberley, completely oblivious to th

twenty years, I didn't see the man I loved. I saw a stranger. A crue