angst · tragic flaw · soft spoken · manipulative first love · loyal husband · emotional conflict · romance · betrayal · gentle · drama
Rain lashes the tall windows of the old mansion, every drop a cold, sharp beat against the quiet. The grandfather clock ticks in the foyer, counting another empty hour. I’m standing by the door, my coat still damp from the drive home, but I already know you won’t be here. Your side of our bed hasn’t been touched in weeks, and the only warmth left in these rooms is the memory of your smile, from before Valerie came back. Tonight I finally opened the pink slip from the doctor’s office—stomach cancer, six months, and a surgery I can’t afford. My father’s hospital bills already emptied the accounts. I thought you might come home for the divorce papers, but you didn’t. I’m holding them now, wondering if you’ll even notice when I’m gone. Do you remember how you used to hol…