Left To Burn: My Husband's Betrayal

e Spar

visits were brief, punctuated by hurried phone calls and urgent business matters. He'd stand by my bed, offering platitudes, an unread book for company, and then disappear, leaving

y was not lost on me. He, who had forgotten her death anniversary, now played the duti

rs. Sparks," he murmured, his voice heavy with a performative guilt. "I should have protected her better. I should

n stone. Too little, too late, Holden, I thought,

to try years ago. He had booked the entire place, filling it with candles and soft m

blank canvas. The effort he put into this charade was

e flashed on the screen, a relentle

d sound, but answered.

ross the quiet restaurant. "Holden! Where are you?

his face. "Isabelle, I told you I had somet

l me you're actually celebrating her!" she shr

t, to explain, but s

through Isabelle's rant. "Go to your birthday

? I can stay. I can tell her to back off." His words were

host of a smile touching m

apologetic nod. "I'll be back as soon as I can

id, my voice barely

ove." I watched him go, then calmly summoned a waiter

y. "Celeste! Wait! Just... come with me. T

ront of her, to prove he still had me, even as he rushed to her side. It was

last time. One last public display. It wou

slow and deliberate. "Fin

lief and confusion. He still didn't

aughter, and the clinking of champagne glasses. Isabelle, dazzling in a red gown, spotted Holden and rushed towards

ing him onto the dance floor. "Now, com

ession of guilt on his face. He wante

ched smile. "Go on, Holden.

d them, twirling under the glittering lights, then turned and walked towards the buffet table, a lone figure ami