A Wife's Vengeful Art

d refused to go with Mark, a small act of rebellion that had earned me a look of pure hatred from

at the passing city lights. "I'd find receipts for expensive dinners I wasn't at. A hotel

, her hands tight o

oking error. On and on. And he'd say it with this look on his face, this loo

started to believe him. I thought, maybe I am crazy. Th

ead, Sarah," Emily s

posedly at a late-night meeting. I called his office. The security guard said everyone had left h

didn't go up. I didn't pound on the door. I just sat there for hours, the engine

smelled like wine and her perfume. He didn't even try to

r his voice, drip

in three days. The house is a mess. All you do is mope around and cry. Chloe i

sn't a disease, it was a character flaw. My grief wasn't a process, it wa

y on, I just

e. I let him and Chloe have their victory. He wanted a life without th

tching in my throat. "I was a good architect. I won a

n months. My name, which used to be on mastheads and project proposals, was n

ty. I wasn't Sarah Miller, the architect, anymore. I was just the crazy wife he ke

driveway and turned off the

se. "He didn't take anything. You just put it down for a little

woman who had designed skyscrapers felt like a stranger, a ghost from