A Quiet Goodbye

Elroy gave her everything—his heart, his favor, even the damn inheritance.

Eight years, and what did I get?

Lies. Betrayal. Fake love with a polished smile.

The front door creaked open.

They stumbled in, tangled up in each other, kissing like they'd never have to come up for air.

I couldn't move. Just stood there, frozen.

All that talk about hospital care—just an excuse to clear me out so they could hook up in peace.

I was a ghost in my own home, watching them play house.

Brigitte's moans bounced off the walls. She tilted her head back, breathless.

"Elroy, if I'd met you first... would you have married me?"

He moved faster, voice sharp.

"Stop dreaming. If it weren't for Celine, I wouldn't have looked twice."

She whined, clinging to him.

"But you still ended up in my bed. You even said it was hotter with her home. Liar."

Her voice climbed with pleasure. I slapped my hands over my ears, but Elroy's words still sliced through.

Each one gutted me—sharp, brutal, unforgiving.

He said, "Yeah, I still love her. But eight years is a long time. A little thrill now and then—what's the harm?"

That was it. That was his excuse.

I let out a bitter laugh, lips trembling.

The pain hit hard, spreading like wildfire. My stomach twisted, and the floor rushed up to meet me.

I hit the ground with a thud. Loud enough to snap Elroy out of his bubble.

He came running—half-dressed, panic all over his face.

He scooped me up and sprinted to the car.

In the backseat, he clutched my hand, shaking, crying like it actually hurt him.

The panic was real—but so were the lipstick stains and fresh love bites.

"Babe, please... let me explain after the baby's born..."

A tear slipped down my cheek.

I turned away, smiling through the wreckage.

***

Inside the OR, Dr. Jourdain prepped the syringe.

"One shot, and you'll be in shock-state for about a day. Ready?"

I nodded, pale as paper.

"Don't forget—swap the consent form with the divorce papers."

"Got it."

The needle slid in. Cold crept through my veins. My eyes drifted shut.

Outside, Elroy was losing it—pacing like a madman. Nobody had ever seen him this wrecked.

Dr. Jourdain's colleague walked out holding a form.

"Mr. Lousteau, your wife suffered major hemorrhaging. We need your signature."

Elroy kicked the nurse's desk, yelling, "I don't care what it takes—just save Celine! Save my wife!"

He scribbled his name, hand shaking like a leaf, eyes wild as the doctor rushed back in.

Ten minutes later, I was wheeled out under a white sheet.

The doctor's voice was quiet, heavy.

"Mr. Lousteau... I'm sorry. We did everything we could."

Elroy pulled the sheet back, staring at my still face.

His legs gave out. He hit the floor, mumbling over and over, "I don't believe it... I don't believe it... I don't believe it..."