The Wife He Forgot

ne into silence. His mention of Lily, his

as pale and crying, a perfect picture of a wronged victim. "Mark,

forward and grabbed my wrist, his grip li

worse. "I didn't do it, Mark," I pleaded, m

scream, a calculated distra

s he turned, his eyes landed on the small memorial I had set up in the corner

embling. "What is that? Oh, God, Mark, she'

w, primal sound. "Those are for

e memorial. He kicked over the flowers. He stomped on her toys. Then he gathered up

hands reaching into the flames. I managed to pull out a half-bu

ay," he murmured to her. "I'll control her.

nd the pathetic, burnt piece of paper in my hand. He noticed how thin I' d become, how my clothes hung off my frame. A pang of so

h the air. A speeding truck, having lost control on

g. Then it slammed into me, pinning m

was a searing, white-hot

me, their faces grim. Through the haze of pain, I could hear them talking. Both Emily and I wer

. The next of kin

ess of agony. He paced back and forth, his hands clenched. Then

ep breath. "