Faye slammed the pen down. “I already told you. There’s no divorce between us. We’re stuck together till one of us is dead.”
——
Faye didn’t sign.
She said it herself. There would be no divorce between us. Only death could separate us, just like we promised on our wedding day.
She didn’t even look at the papers before slamming the door and walking out. Not long after, my phone lit up with a message from an unknown number.
“You’re Chester Hastings, right? You must’ve seen it by now. She was saving my photos back when I was still in school. Faye loves me, not you. If you don’t step aside, she’ll make you suffer.”
Untouched by the world, or perhaps shielded too well by Faye, the boy's voice held a naïve kind of bravado.
Before I could even reply, he sent over a dozen pictures.
Faye’s waist-to-hip curve was perfect, her collarbone chain draped just so across her waist. The large hand resting on her hip often forgot to wear the wedding ring she and I shared.
Not until her belly began to swell was that chain finally removed.