Chapter 3

I didn't answer him. I just continued my work, dropping a pair of diamond earrings into the trash bag.

"I realized I'm just cluttering up the place," I said, my voice flat. "I'm just making room for the real lady of the house."

He strode across the room and grabbed my arm, his grip tight. "What are you talking about?"

"Let go of me, Carter."

"You're lying," he said, his eyes searching mine. "Something's wrong. Tell me."

He forced me to look at him, his fingers digging into my chin. "Is this about the ceremony? I told you, it was all fake. A show for a dying woman."

I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. "You're an excellent actor, Carter. You both are. You almost had me convinced."

"What did you hear?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Before I could answer, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen. Erlene's name flashed. His entire demeanor changed. The anger and confusion vanished, replaced by a soft concern.

He let go of me and answered the phone. "Erlene? What is it? Are you okay?"

He walked out of the room, his voice a low murmur of comfort. He was gone, just like that. Without a single look back.

I stood there, feeling nothing. The last flicker of hope had been extinguished. It didn't even hurt anymore. It was just... empty.

Our love, or what I thought was love, was like a piece of candy that had been sweet for a moment but had turned rotten in my mouth. It was time to spit it out.

My phone buzzed. It was a text from an unknown number. I opened it.

It was a picture. Erlene, naked, wrapped in Carter's arms in his bed. The sheets were the ones I had bought last week.

Another text came through.

He's with me now, Darline. Where he's always wanted to be.

I remembered all the nights Carter had turned his back to me, claiming he was tired from work. All the times his touch had felt distant, obligatory.

Another text.

Did you really think he could ever love someone like you? He told me your marriage was a joke. He never even touched you unless he had to.

He never loved you. Not for a single second.

I gripped the phone, my knuckles white. The words didn't hurt as much as the truth they confirmed. I knew it already. I had known it deep down for a long time.

I wouldn't beg for a love that was never mine.

He didn't come back that night, or the next. I saw him again at the "farewell" party. He was pushing Erlene in a wheelchair, her head resting weakly against his shoulder. He fussed over her, tucking a blanket around her legs, his every move a public declaration of his devotion.

I watched them, a small, sarcastic smile playing on my lips. I could see the way his eyes lingered on her, the raw love in his gaze. It was a look he had never once given me.

The party began. Clemma stood at a podium, announcing Erlene's "brave battle" with her illness. A slideshow started playing on a large screen. Photos of Erlene growing up, a happy, cherished child.

In some of the family photos, I was there, a blurry, out-of-focus figure in the background, my face barely visible. Always on the edge, never part of the center.

Then came the recent photos. Erlene and Carter, laughing together on a boat. Erlene and Carter, his arms wrapped around her from behind as she painted. The dates proved his love was a lie told to me while he lived his truth with her.

Suddenly, the screen flickered. The happy photos were replaced by stark, black text on a white background.

ERLENE FULTON IS A LIAR.

MAY SHE ROT IN HELL.

The music died. A collective gasp filled the room. The atmosphere froze.

Then, chaos erupted.