Chapter 2 The Decision

Later that night, as I sat alone in my room, the weight of the day's events still heavy on my chest, the sound of the door opening broke the silence. I didn't need to look up to know it was Josey. My stepmother always seemed to appear at the worst possible times, her presence suffocating in its way.

She didn't wait for an invitation. She walked in like she owned the place, making her way toward the couch with that trademark, smug smile plastered on her face. "Faye," she said in her usual commanding tone. "We need to talk."

I didn't respond immediately. It was clear she was here to make me change my mind, to make me go back to Desmond, and part of me wanted to scream, to tell her to leave. But I knew I had to face her, to hear what she had to say.

Josey took a seat beside me, and I could already feel her eyes boring into me, studying me like some kind of prey. She was going to try and manipulate me again. I could feel it in my bones.

You're being dramatic. Desmond cares about you, Faye. I don't know why you're making a scene about it. He's only human, after all. Men make mistakes. You should be more understanding. He never meant to hurt you."

The nerve of her. "Understanding?" I spat, unable to hold back the anger bubbling inside me. "You don't understand anything, Josey. He didn't make a mistake. He made a choice. He's been using me from the start. All those sweet words, all that 'love'-it was all a lie. He never cared about me. He wanted Tila. He always wanted her. And now, I'm supposed to just... what? Go back to him like nothing happened?"

"I don't care what anyone else thinks. Desmond isn't the man I thought he was. And you, Josey... you don't get to come here and tell me what I should do with my life. You don't get to manipulate me anymore."

No more being used. No more being the victim. This time, I would live for myself. I would find my happiness.

I felt my heart clench, memories from my past life flashing before my eyes. The pain. The betrayal. The day of my death-the way Desmond had betrayed me so coldly, so easily. The day my entire family betrayed me.

*********************

THE DAY I DIED

The sunlight came through the living room windows, making everything look warm and calm. I sat cross-legged on the floor, drawing carefully on the canvas in front of me. My pencil moved gently, bringing the family picture to life. It showed me, Desmond, my mother, and Tila.

I paused and smiled at the image. Marrying Desmond felt like the best thing I had ever done. It was everything I had dreamed of-love, support, and a happy life. At least, that's what I thought.

My phone rang, pulling me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the screen and saw my mother-in-law's name.

"Hello, Mother," I said, picking up the phone.

"Faye," she said in her sharp tone. "I'll be coming over later with some friends. Make sure you cook something decent for us."

I sat up straighter, already feeling nervous. "Of course, Mother. Is there anything special you'd like me to make?"

"Just make sure it's good," she snapped. Then her voice dropped, becoming colder. "And remember, you need to talk about how great Desmond is. Your parents need to know he's the perfect husband. It's important for his career."

I gripped the phone tighter. "Yes, Mother. I'll do that."

"Good," she said shortly and hung up.

I put the phone down and sighed. The joy I felt moments ago disappeared. I glanced at the half-finished painting. This was supposed to be a gift for Desmond, something to show how much I cared. Now, it felt harder to focus. But I pushed the feelings aside. I had to do what was expected of me.

The smell of spices filled the kitchen as I worked hard to make the meal perfect. I checked everything twice, hoping it would be good enough.

When my mother-in-law arrived with her friends, I greeted them with a smile. "Welcome," I said softly, leading them to the dining table.

I set the dishes down carefully. "Here's what I made," I said, keeping my voice polite.

She took a bite and frowned. "This is disappointing, Faye. I thought you would do better than this."

Her words stung, but I forced myself to smile. "I'm sorry, Mother. I'll try harder next time."

"You'd better," she said. Then she leaned closer and whispered, "Don't forget to speak highly of Desmond. Your parents need to secure that position for him."

I nodded, even though my stomach twisted into knots. I wanted to talk to Desmond about this first, but there wasn't time.

That Day, I decided to surprise my mom with the painting. I packed it carefully and placed it in the car. I tried calling my husband to tell him, but the phone rang and rang.

"Where are you?" I whispered to myself, dialing again. Still no answer.

The drive home was quiet, but my unease grew. When I reached the house, it was empty. I set my keys down, feeling worried.

I grabbed my phone and called my mother's assistant. "Where is everyone?" I asked, trying to sound calm.

"They're at the auction at the gallery," the assistant said. "Didn't you know?"

"No, I didn't," I said, frowning. "Thanks for telling me."

"Wait," the assistant added. "Your mother left some documents in the cabinet. Can you bring them to the auction? She'll need them."

"Alright," I said, though I felt unsure.

I went to get the documents and placed them next to the painting in the car. As I drove to the gallery, I felt a strange nervousness.

When I pulled into the parking lot, I saw Desmond's car parked neatly. My heart sank. "Desmond?"

I walked toward the car and noticed an envelope lying on the ground nearby. Picking it up, I opened it with trembling hands. Inside was a resignation letter.

My chest tightened. "Why didn't he tell me?"

Holding the letter tightly, I walked quickly into the gallery. I needed to find him. I needed answers.