Ten years after my husband's death, I learned the truth from his own brother: he was still alive.
A luxury villa tucked deep in the mountains. That was where he'd been hiding.
My hands trembled as I pushed open the front door. That familiar face, lounging on the couch, his arm draped lazily around another woman.
"Nathan, it's been ten years. Don't you ever think about going back to see your wife?"
Nathan Henson tightened his grip on the woman in his arms, his voice cold as stone.
"Her condition requires a kidney transplant. But I already gave one of mine to you. If I donate again, I'm dead."
"She'd never say it outright, but she'd cling to me until I caved. Faking my death was the only way out."
"Whether she lives or dies, it's no concern of mine."
His words drove through my chest like needles.
He probably never knew. After he "died," I found out I was carrying his child.
I raised our daughter alone. Ten years spent drowning in guilt and grief.
And he would never know that my own life was nearly over.
Ten years of devotion. Ten years of widowhood. Ten years of guilt.
All of it nothing more than an elaborate lie he'd carefully orchestrated.
——
Before I could step inside, the girl caught sight of my face. She instinctively buried her head against Nathan's neck.
A smile curled at her lips, taunting. "Nathan, if your wife showed up right now, would your heart still skip a beat?"
Nathan pinched her waist and pulled her onto his lap. "You and your jealousy over nothing. Even if Sarah Gilbert got down on her knees and begged, I wouldn't feel a thing."
My fingers tightened around the door handle.
I stepped back. The door creaked.
Nathan's head snapped toward the sound, and his eyes locked directly onto mine.
My vision blurred red. Tears fell, one by one, hitting the ground.
When he realized it was me, he went rigid. Rose to his feet like a man in a trance.
The girl tumbled off his lap onto the floor.
I pressed my hand over my mouth and ran.
I didn't know how long I ran. I ended up by the river, clutching my stomach, crouching down.
The pain. A twisting, wringing agony deep inside.
The color drained from my face. I doubled over and coughed up a mouthful of blood.
Nathan came running up behind me and gently wrapped his arms around my body.
"Sarah, after ten years apart, your condition's gotten so much worse."
"Ethel Henson is the woman who saved my life. Whatever she says, I go along with it. You didn't actually believe what I said back there, did you?"
He was still as gentle as he used to be.
But now that gentleness made my stomach turn.
I shoved his arm away and stepped back.
His brow darkened instantly, like a switch had been flipped. Like he was the one who had the right to be angry.
"Sarah, when did you get so stubborn?"
"And this," he pointed at the blood on the ground, a mocking smile playing across his face, "you came all this way just so I'd feel sorry for you?"
"You've survived this long without dying. Your illness must be better by now. How could it possibly be getting worse?"
I stared at him, wide-eyed. Frozen.
He reached out to grab my arm again.
I stepped back, wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes, and forced myself to stand.
"Nathan." My voice grew fainter with every word. "It's been ten years. Don't you owe me at least an explanation?"
His hand hung suspended in the air, then slowly fell back to his side.
"Sarah, you've lost weight."
There was a time when even a scratch on my hand would make his eyes go red.
He used to kneel in front of me, tears streaming down his face, whispering, "I'm so sorry for everything you've been through."
But the man standing before me now delivered those words with a face carved from ice.
He had fallen for someone else. Completely.
Just as I opened my mouth to speak, a small voice piped up from behind me.
