Unbreakable Bonds

I had been Milton Fleming’s mistress for four years. On the day of my death, he was marrying someone else. “This is my big day and you didn’t even come. What’s the matter? Jealous because the bride isn’t you?” “Or do you think I will compromise if you play these petty tricks?” “Phyllis Graves, I’ll only say this one last time. If you don’t show up today, don’t think about coming back to me in this life.” Later, he knelt before my grave and carved the epitaph for me with his hands. “Beloved Wife Phyllis Graves. Born when all the flowers were gone and died on the year I loved her the most.” That was the first time he admitted that he loved me. But so what? I was already dead.