The night my son's fever hit 104°F and he slipped into a coma, Corey Vance was pinned beneath his band's female drummer as she poured her heart out to him.
It was my desperate phone call that snapped him back to his senses. He turned her down.
Corey came home and sat at our son's bedside, tears streaming down his face.
Not long after, the drummer quit the band. Less than six months later, her wedding invitation arrived in my husband's mailbox.
From that day on, Corey couldn't sing anymore. He abandoned his music career, came back to the family, and played the role of devoted house husband.
Fifty years we walked side by side. Everyone who knew us said we were the perfect couple.
Then I fell gravely ill, and Corey shoved a divorce agreement and a pen into my hands.
"If you hadn't made that phone call, Letitia and I might've still had a chance."
"Please, just sign it and set me free. At least then I can still face Letitia with some dignity... Caroline Jenner, it's been fifty years. Neither of us owes the other a thing."
I shattered. Under the weight of his stare, my trembling hand signed.
Then I pulled out my breathing tube and ended it all.
When my eyes opened again, I was back on the night my son's fever spiked.
This time, I dialed a different number. My voice was ice.
"The funding programs backing Corey Vance's band. Shut them all down."
...
I hung up, rushed my son to the hospital, and didn't let myself breathe until the doctor finished treating him.
My mind still hadn't fully surfaced. Behind my eyes, I could see it: Corey in my previous life, hunched over my hospital bed, begging.
His skeletal fingers had dug into my arm, carrying the obsession of half a lifetime.
"Caroline, I've been more than good enough to you. Just sign the divorce papers. I don't want a single thing."
"I told you back then, you and I aren't from the same world. Please... let me go. Once we're divorced, at least when I'm in the ground, Letitia won't resent me for never giving her a chance."
In that moment, my heartbeat had nearly stopped.
He was begging me to let him go.
Fifty years of marriage. I'd given up a career overseas to marry him, and in that instant, every sacrifice became a slap across my own face.
Cold sweat prickled down my spine now, in this life, shocking the last shred of longing out of me.
Corey Vance, since I gave you what you wanted, then fine. This time around, we truly owe each other nothing.
Noah Abbott was still unconscious. I stepped out of the hospital to grab some food.
A piercing roar of cheers erupted from the little restaurant next door.
"Congrats to the band on another win! And congrats to Corey for scoring our Letitia's love confession!"
I froze. My gaze drifted to the group celebrating outside the restaurant entrance.
Corey stood there holding a beer bottle. Beside him, a young woman with a high ponytail had her shoulder pressed close to his.
I recognized her instantly.
Letitia Dickerson.
"What confession? Don't make stuff up."
She ducked her head shyly, but her eyes kept sneaking glances at Corey.
"I just shared my feelings with Corey, that's all. He has a family. I'd never want to come between them."
Corey's hand paused mid-drag on his cigarette. Almost reflexively, his other hand reached out to block someone from pouring her another drink.
"Exactly. Quit talking nonsense."
A few of the others looked annoyed.
"Come on, Corey, don't be so whipped. Honestly, your wife Caroline just looks down on all of us musicians. Every time she shows up at rehearsal with that look on her face? Tch."
"For real! Those stiletto heels, those oversized sunglasses, looking us up and down like we're beneath her. She's not even trying to hide it!"
Letitia widened her doe eyes and turned to Corey.
"Corey, is that how you see it too?"
He lowered his head and took a long drag. The smoke curled around his face, making his expression impossible to read.
