“He used to love you so much,” Mark continued, his voice soft, trying to be the voice of reason. “What happened? I’ve never seen a man more devoted. Remember when you were sick last year? He didn't leave your side for three days.”
I closed my eyes.
I remembered.
Four years. That’s how long I lived in his lie.
I remembered the perfection. The way he looked at me across a crowded room. The way he would drop everything for a whim. Once, I mentioned I craved a specific chocolate from Belgium. He didn't just order it. He flew there. He abandoned a million-dollar negotiation to hand-deliver a box of truffles, just to see me smile.
He was the husband who carried me when I was tired. The man who swore I was his religion. “I’d burn the world for you, Maureen.”
But he didn't burn the world. He burned me.
It was all a performance. A mask to hide the monster.
The soup he fed me probably had the same poison in it. The care was just control. The love was just a cage.
The image of him laughing about our dead baby flashed in my mind, overriding every sweet memory, turning them into ash.