Goodbye, I'm Not Your Substitute Wife Anymore

rything is fine now. I'm staying to make sure she's okay. Will be back tomorrow." He gave an excuse, a plausible reason,

nge. I hadn't slept. The house was silent, empty. For the first time, the silence didn' t feel lonely, it felt peaceful. I had spent three years hop

d always love her. And I could not compete with a ghost, especially one that was very much alive and standing right in

trace of my existence. I packed my clothes, my books, my personal trinkets. The music box my mother had giv

een everything, his neglect, my silent suffering. They did

large moving truck, which I had arranged, pul

looking at the uniformed m

e I had prepared. "I' m donating some old furniture and things

e had long since forgotten. But he nodded, his mind already on

edroom furniture, my personal effects, everything that defined my presence in that house. He was in his study, just a few feet away, and he didn' t e

f the year. It was addressed to "Mr. Mark Davis and Guest." The accompanying note from the Guild' s president was

ouple. The invitation was a public test. I held it in my hand, the thick card

me i

tching on a large bluep

n on his desk. "This

s. He remained silent. For a long moment, the only sound was the scratching of his pen on the paper. He was consi

r. I couldn' t stand to be publicly humiliated.

was pre-empting his rejection, taking control of the narrative one last time. "Her

r of something in them, maybe relief, maybe guilt. I couldn' t

ooked back at him, hunched over his desk, a man so lost in his own world he couldn' t see

ar it. But I said it for myself. It was my final farewell t