Then He Got Sick
It happened so suddenly — just a few days of fatigue, and then he was gone.
I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t even get to say goodbye properly. One moment, he was sitting beside me reading a book, and the next, I was staring at his empty chair.
That’s when everything crumbled.
Not even two days after the funeral, Veronica showed her true self. I was still in pajamas, trying to eat toast through tears, when she walked into the kitchen in silk heels and red lipstick, like she was headed to a gala.
She didn’t bother to sit or ask how I was.
Instead, she said, “You need to start packing.”
Her voice was sharp and cold, cutting through my grief like it didn’t exist at all.
I blinked, confused.
“You have 36 hours,” she said, pouring herself a glass of wine. “This house is mine now. I don’t want you or your… babies here.”
I felt like the air got sucked out of the room.
