The money he saved bought me my first watch.
I wore that watch for years. Even when the color faded and the band warped, I couldn't bring myself to throw it out.
After we married, every time something wounded me, I'd take that watch out and put it on.
I'd tell myself the good in the past was real, that whatever friction we had now, if I just endured it, it would pass.
Tilda barely glanced at the box. Her face didn't move.
"Throw it all out."
"He's always loved using this junk to guilt me. Reminding me how much he suffered for me."
"Let's see what he has to say after this."
Then she picked up the box and, without a moment's hesitation, hurled it out the window.
I heard the dull thud below.
And strangely, in that instant, I went calm.
To me, those memories of hardship shared had been a shield, enough to smooth over countless cracks in our marriage.
To her, they were nothing but emotional blackmail. A curse chaining her down.
The love I'd treasured like something rare had already rotted through from the inside.
After Tilda went to the spare room, Ronan found the suicide note under my pillow.
He read that I'd already taken the poison, that I meant to die together with the creditor who'd driven Tilda to ruin.
He froze for a second.
He walked to the door a few times. In the end he folded that note carefully, over and over, and tucked it into his own pocket.
Ronan sat on the bed for two full hours.
Finally he took out his phone, used AI to fake a photo of me with my arm around a Black man, and sent it to Tilda.
"Jack says he's gone on vacation with his new girlfriend. He wants us to wish him well."
"Since that's how it is, why don't we stop waiting for him?"
The moment Tilda saw it, she smashed her fist through the mirror.
"Jack Delgado, you've got some nerve!"
"You really thought I'd sit here pining over a piece of trash like you!"
"I'll show you right now. I do just fine without you!"
She'd worked herself into a fury, and on the spot she announced in the family group chat that she'd be getting engaged to Ronan tomorrow.
I drifted in the air, looking at the shadows bruising under her eyes, and felt only how pitiful it all was.
Even an enemy, getting a call from the police, would cooperate with the investigation.
But my wife, the woman I'd shared a bed with, couldn't even be bothered to confirm whether I was dead.
Early the next morning, relatives came pouring in to congratulate her until the villa was packed.
Diana couldn't stop smiling. She dragged Ronan around by the hand, introducing him to everyone.
"This is Ronan, my new son-in-law."
"He's got a lucky face, too. Much better than that dark, dirt-poor Jack Delgado."
In the middle of all the congratulations, the front door suddenly slammed open.
The creditor who'd once helped Tilda stage the whole thing came stumbling in.
She looked around, then threw herself straight into Tilda's arms.
"Tilda... something's happened! Your husband poisoned himself last night!"
"The officers pulled me in this morning to cooperate with the investigation!"
The creditor looked terrified, like she'd seen a ghost, clutching Tilda and unable to get the words out straight.
Tilda's face went ashen. She shoved her away.
"Jack's making trouble, and now you're playing along with him?"
"A kept man like him, kill himself? Don't make me laugh."
"Go tell Jack."
"If he actually knows he was wrong, he can crawl back here right now, instead of pulling these shameful little stunts!"
Then she picked up her glass.
Just as she was about to raise a toast, a squad of officers pushed through the crowd toward her.
They flashed their badges, then pulled out a fresh autopsy report and threw it in Tilda's face.
"Tilda Gilbert."
"Your husband, Jack Delgado, died last night at eleven from poisoning, in Suite 306 of the Grand Joyance Hotel."
"The reason for the suicide has not yet been determined."
"We need you to cooperate with our investigation immediately."
