Framed By My Husband's Love

husband and my rival framed me with fabricated evi

e boy I saved and raised, slashed my tires while my husband tampered wi

d as a ghost, scrubbing toilets and hiding in the shado

using my son' s 18th birthday as the stage for their own

leaner, a ghost the

're

ng seven years of digital receipts that w

pte

that really

, gritty liquid sloshing over my worn-out shoes. Seven years. Seven years of scrubbing floors, toilets, and the grit of other people's lives

thought had forgotten how to feel, gave a violent thump against my ribs. I kept my back

cker now, laced with a strange mix

my eyes fixed on the grimy mop head, willing mys

inched as if burned. The touch sent a jolt through me, a raw nerve ex

e." Her voice cracked. "For seven ye

using. Dead. It was a word I' d lived with. A convenie

stark reality of the moment. My eyes, still adjusting from staring at the polish

Hull. Her usually sharp features were softened by a veil of shock, her perfectly m

, dark and guarded, stared at me with an intensity that

erine said, her voice barely above a whisper, pulling t

atterns on my hand while I read her bedtime stories. Now, he was a young man

, Elise. For seven years. Do you know how many flowers I laid for you? How many prayers I said?" Her control wavered, and

cked up my lunchbox from the utility cart. It was a cheap plastic container, filled with col

e fabric of her dress. The curve was subtle, but unmistakable. Another life. A new beginning for her. Sev

ears. A

ayal far stronger than the food. Our paths

he scrutiny made my skin crawl. "What happened to you, Elise? Look at you. You're a cleaner." Her voice was l

o the industrial trash bin, the squeak of my rubber soles the only sound

ce flat, devoid of any emotion. It was a pr

tightened, and her hands clenched at her sides. She looked at Annam

?" Her voice was sharp now, cutting thro

me, flinched. His head dropped, and a bare

igging into my palms. The air grew thick, heavy with unspoken words. Only the