I Divorce With My Husbands Pretends To Be dead

d I finally get it-some people aren't born mut

antic outbursts, ending in nothing but the dead silence of "read but unanswered." Don't even get me started on calls-

egging for help. I could hear my own voice shaking, like a tattered rag in the wind, but not so much as a punctuation

, just dropped a cold line: "You made a mess of th

ire. In the end, I said nothing. Back then, I still ma

bled for my phone, hands shaking so bad I could barely dial his number, and called him twenty times straight. The

oncern in his voice, just blame: "Why didn

at the bandage on my arm, a

fighting-tired enough to want t

ting. Waiting for a respo

first instinct was to grab my phone and dial him. That endless "beep-beep" felt like a death knell.

seat, and blurred

g compared to the ache in my chest. Still bleeding, I stumbled into his office, picked up a

ls, what's the point of keeping it?!" I scr

ressionless-as if I'd just smashed a r

fication chime cut through the air. But before I could proce

ed his car keys and bolted out the door, faster

been sucked out. On impulse, I

was scorching, searing my eyes. I watched a young woman, her hand on her preg

en lifted her into his arms carefully, his voice low and tender-a to

tight my nails cracked. The pain shot up my

nd to a Messenger

f looking worried, o

en another woman in hi

ame. What a coincidence-on the day I lost ou

dream, the baby who never got to see the world called me

rist. The baby vanished, and in fro

grip on my wrist was tight enough to break bones. "Because you fl

: "Lost it? Good. Why should

a long silence, he climbed onto the bed, reaching for my clothes, his

screamed, my hea

s gone-his and mine. An

rld was closed off to me.

knife on the nightstand. Without thinking,

im. I want

lucky-only a

n the middle of a Zoom meeting, didn't even glan

ification. He paused the meeting immediatel

r. The chat na

ing it cold and empty. So he could reply right away-

before he resumed the meeting. An h

ce steady. "You're the at-fault party

es, then his expression turned cold again: "Morgan's

o everything to take care of her. D

knife, slicing my heart slowly. "How

wallet and handed it to me, then signed the divorce papers without a second

was clear-Come back when y

l. I'd put up with five years of silence

me, I'd fina

red at his wallet. It had

oked at Joanne Morgan's face, froze for a

e southern suburbs you liked-I transferred it to Morgan. The fore

y palm: "I told you. That house was my first

nse from

ng at his phone, typing. His a

mp

ickly, as if running fast enough coul

out the photo agai

ed so muc

Brian Locke's dead first love-the

only one who offered help-on the condition that Brian marry me. I

es. But when he spoke, he said he wanted to marry my step-s

ut-they'd already had

r, so he called off the engagement and told me: "Hone

ame to me privately, saying he'd

rgetting my dad's words. I'd naively thought his change of hear

re the reception ended, we heard

l, my stepmom's wails, the guests' whispers, and my dad's

essages-said he preferred calls. But once the Locke family got b

-pouring in all my joy and sorrow

wn, confronted

ily Bennett had messaged him before she died, but I'd

imself. And

looked 80% like Lily-and treated her a hund

led the photo, and threw it out the window.

y hair-like

t. The more he ignored me, the more messages I

e was drive

attempts to heal, and countless t

Really,

d dialed a number I had

heard my own voice shake-b

still mean what you