Dead.
Drunk driving accident.
Just like that, the only other person who knew the truth disappeared from the world, leaving me alone with a lie I couldn’t prove.
A bitter laugh escapes me as I grab my keys off the counter.
“Convenient,” I whisper, hating the bitterness I feel.
But it’s true.
With Paul gone, it’s easier for him to get away with his lies.
It’s easier for Benji to accept his best friend was a saint than see him for the monster he was.
It’s so fucking convenient for everyone except me.
I take one last look around the empty house, my throat tight.
This was supposed to be our start.
Our foundation.
The place we built something real while he was off fighting his battles.
God, just six months ago we were planning to have a family.
I spent months charting my cycle. See, I’m irregular and I wanted to surprise him when he got back. I’ve been taking supplements and exercising, and keeping track of my menses and ovulation.
See, Benji wants kids so badly. And I do, too. With him.
Or, I guess, we did, but not anymore.
Paul ruined that, too.
And instead of this house becoming a home, it became the place where everything fell apart.
“No job, no husband, no home,” I say softly, the words tasting like ash.
My little business—my vlog where I try out and discuss household items and clothes for plus size women—was never supposed to be my job.
I mean, I was trying to build something of my own. Something that mattered. I hoped, of course, for sponsors someday.
But without stability, without support—I don’t know what I’ll do.
Because right now? I don’t have a lot of options.
I’ve got a van, a few boxes, and a heart that feels like it’s been ripped out of my chest and left behind in a house that doesn’t belong to me anymore.
And I can’t stay here. There’s an officer outside waiting for me to hand in my keys.
I step outside, locking the door behind me.
The click echoes.
Final.
“Ma’am?” The officer stands at ease, eyes blank.
