My husband cheated. The other woman was a new intern under him. He bought her a house, a car, paraded her in front of his parents, and even threw a lavish wedding. Everything but the actual marriage certificate was hers. He even had our own son, Leo, walk as their ring bearer on their wedding day. Liam called me cold, too engrossed in my career, neglecting him and our home. Even Leo echoed him, claiming I was no mother, devoid of affection. Apparently, I was destined to be a terrible wife, a horrible mother, so I graciously—or perhaps bitterly—stepped aside. Now, let’s see if this ‘perfect’ replacement truly satisfies them. Today was Liam Caldwell’s wedding day. Even Leo wasn’t home. He’d just posted on Ins five minutes ago. “Dad and Mom’s wedding, our happy family!” The post featured a photo of the three of them, beaming, a picture of pure domestic bliss. Anyone seeing it would have gushed, ‘Goals! Relationship perfection!’ But two of the three people in that photo were undeniably my husband and my child. Even through the picture, I could see the dazzling jewels Brittany Hayes wore. That necklace alone must have cost a fortune—hundreds of thousands, easily. Far better than what I got. When Liam and I married, we were fresh out of college, flat broke. We barely scraped together a few hundred dollars between us. Back then, he’d never tire of telling me, “Eleanor, just wait for me. I’ll make something of myself, I promise I’ll give you a good life.” Later, Leo was born, and his company took off. In just five short years, it successfully went public, and his net worth skyrocketed. We no longer had to fret over monthly rent, or whether we’d eat our next meal. We didn’t need to work endless side jobs just to earn a few extra bucks. But sadly, the man who once earnestly promised me a good life was gone. Now, it was Brittany Hayes who held his heart. I let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh, then hailed a cab to his company. Perhaps because of the wedding, he’d given everyone at the company the day off to attend, leaving only Mr. Henderson, the building’s security guard, at the front. He seemed surprised to see me, his expression tinged with pity. Yet, he still managed to say, “Madam Caldwell, you’re here?” See? Even the security guard remembered I was Madam Caldwell. So why could Liam so openly invite the entire company to his wedding with Brittany Hayes? Why was Leo so thrilled to welcome his new mother? I smiled and nodded, saying little, just walking into the company building. When Liam first started his company, he brought me here, slinging an arm around me, gesturing grandly. “Look! This whole empire I built for you.” I stayed by his side, watching it grow from a tiny studio into an entire building. I witnessed its meteoric rise, and it, in turn, witnessed our tangled web of love, hate, and betrayal—mine, Liam’s, and Brittany’s. Soon, it would witness my death. I sat by the entrance, recalling everything from the past, my breath growing shallower. Noticing my distress, Mr. Henderson frantically dialed 911. The last thing I felt was my consciousness fading, my body slumping sideways. I tried to sit upright, to die with some grace, but the strength had long since left me. When the hospital reached Liam Caldwell, he was toasting guests with Brittany Hayes. At the mention of my name, his voice was filled with impatience. “Eleanor Vance? Her affairs have nothing to do with me. Don’t call me.” Even Leo, hearing my name, remained impassive. No questions, no curiosity, no defense.
My body lay in the hospital morgue for a full month. Finally, the hospital contacted my colleague, Sarah, who confirmed my identity. During that entire month, Liam never once inquired. He was too busy honeymooning with Brittany Hayes in the Maldives. It wasn’t until the hospital issued a final ultimatum—my body was to be cremated—that he reluctantly hurried back. My corpse, frozen solid in the freezer, was a ghostly, bruised blue, a far cry from my usual appearance. Liam took one look, then sharply averted his gaze, as if my sightless, frozen form was an insult to his perfect day. Leo hadn’t come. He probably didn’t want to see me. The staff urged him to sign the papers quickly and verify the body’s identity. Liam scrawled his name and turned to leave, but was stopped again. He still had to wait for the funeral home to transport the body. His face was a mask of sheer impatience. Of course, Brittany was already texting him, asking what time he’d be home for dinner. The morgue lights were cold and stark. As they moved my body, a beam of light caught the ring on my finger, making it sparkle for a fleeting moment. Liam noticed it. He paused, a slight frown on his face. This was the ring he’d proposed with on graduation day. Back then, we were just two poor students, worried about making ends meet after graduation. To propose to me, he worked odd jobs for three straight months just to buy that modest ring that cost him a few hundred bucks. The diamond was tiny, not very shiny, but it was the best gift I’d received in over twenty years of my life. The golden hour, a gentle breeze, and the earnest, beautiful promise of a young man: “Eleanor Vance, I love you. The wind today tells me I love you, can you hear it? I know you’re pessimistic about marriage. I know all your ideals and ambitions. But please, give me a chance—a chance to prove that our future will be forever happy and beautiful. Will you marry me?” Yet, barely a year into our marriage, the arguments began. He was consumed by his startup, I by my career. He blamed me for not being like other wives, for neglecting our home, for always being busy with work and ignoring him. He complained I was like a robot, always offering calm, rational solutions when he just needed comfort. But it was precisely my drive, my focus, my composure that had drawn him in at first. I kept thinking, just a little more time. Once I finished this project, once I had everything arranged, I’d transform into the ‘qualified wife’ he wanted. But it was too late. Brittany Hayes had appeared in his life. She was young, beautiful, and attentive enough to handle his every need. Naive enough to give him the adoring gaze he craved. Gentle enough not to argue with him after he’d endured a stressful day at work. Those were qualities I lacked. Maybe I was once young and pretty, too, but youth fades. Our love had withered. Between Liam and me, there was nothing left. Perhaps that ring brought back memories for Liam. His expression softened with a flicker of patience as he waited for the funeral home’s van to take me away. He did, in the end, accompany me for this final journey, watching as I was wheeled into the crematorium. My grave was chosen on a desolate hill north of the city—shadowed, windless, treeless, barren. Just one lonely mound. I’d told him countless times that I hated feeling trapped, that I wanted to be free like the wind. If I died, I wished for my ashes to be scattered to the wind, letting me drift one last time across this beautiful world. But on the day of my funeral, neither Liam nor Leo showed up. They were both with Brittany Hayes, going to the courthouse to finalize their marriage license. After all, I was dead. My marriage to Liam Caldwell had automatically ended. No one could hold onto the title of ‘Mrs. Caldwell’ anymore. He doted on her as if she were the most precious jewel, and Leo hovered around her, sweetly trying to win her affection. She wasn’t like me, always engrossed in work, neglecting her husband’s feelings, lacking in care for her child.
So, when Liam Caldwell stared blankly at their freshly minted marriage certificate, she gently wrapped her arms around him. “Liam,” she consoled, “Eleanor is gone. But life goes on for those of us still here. Don’t be sad. I’m sure Eleanor, watching over us, wouldn’t want to see you like this.” Even Leo chimed in, “Yeah, Dad, she’s dead. You should cherish the people who are here now. Brittany is the most important.” Liam snapped out of his daze and hugged the two of them, big and small. “You’re right,” he said, “you two are what matter most now.” He’d said those words to me once, too. After another one of our arguments, he’d stormed off in a huff, packed a bag, and left for a month-long business trip. Until I discovered I was pregnant. Then his anger vanished. He rushed to condense his work into two weeks and hurried home. When he saw me, he embraced me, then, fearing he’d hurt the baby, he held back, his face beaming like an idiot. After that, he turned down countless work opportunities, focusing entirely on staying home with me. He even bought stacks of parenting books. My morning sickness was severe, so he learned all kinds of nutritious recipes, just hoping I’d eat a little more. Every night before bed, he’d massage my legs, afraid I was uncomfortable. I was only six months pregnant, but he’d lost fifteen pounds. In my seventh month, Liam’s company ran into supplier issues, requiring his personal attention. He hesitated, worried I’d be alone. Knowing his company was his life’s blood, I urged him to go, assuring him I’d be fine. He promised to return quickly, but he left me waiting for a full two weeks, claiming the supplier issues were more complicated than expected. My belly grew larger, my movements became slow and cumbersome, and still, he didn’t return. Instead, what arrived was an intimate photo sent to my phone—my husband, Liam Caldwell, and his subordinate, Brittany Hayes, entangled in an explicit embrace. It turned out the truly “complicated” issue wasn’t the supplier at all. It was Brittany. I went into early labor, nearly losing both myself and the baby. Leo was born tiny and very weak. I hadn’t even finished my postpartum recovery when I stormed over to Liam’s company, found Brittany, and made a spectacular scene, embarrassing him utterly in front of everyone. Liam stopped me in front of the entire company. “Eleanor Vance, can’t you stop being so unreasonable? There’s nothing between her and me.” I couldn’t understand how he could be so self-righteous in front of so many people. I wanted to show them that photo, but I’d forgotten to save it, and now it had expired. I was the one who looked like a hysterical, unreasonable woman. But I didn’t care. Just like now, I collapsed at the company entrance, right during lunch hour when everyone was streaming out for their midday meal. A wife dying while her husband held a wedding was juicy enough for tabloid headlines, not to mention Liam’s rivals would be eager to exploit his misstep. In just one month, the company’s market value plummeted by a third. Liam was spinning in circles, hiring countless bots to confuse the public and suppress the news. Only then did he have time to bring Leo back to our home. The plan was to clear out my belongings and sell the house entirely. But the next day, a package arrived. “Sir, excuse me, is this Ms. Eleanor Vance’s home? This is her delivery.”
Liam probably thought I was still causing him trouble, even in death. His expression was full of annoyance. “Eleanor Vance is dead. Just throw the package wherever.” The delivery driver looked awkward, speaking with difficulty. “Sir, are you her family? Would you mind signing for it? It’s something very valuable.” Leo, hearing the commotion at the door, peeked out curiously. “Dad, what is it? I wanna see!” Liam finally signed for the package. It was a large box, about five feet tall, and surprisingly heavy. Leo eagerly urged Liam to open it, impatient to see what was inside. Once opened, it revealed a sleek, silver-gray robot. “Dad, isn’t this one of those broken scraps of metal Mom used to work on? She never let me touch them.” Leo poked around curiously. Even Liam looked bewildered, likely wondering who sent it. “Dad, I wanna play! How do you turn this robot on?” Leo’s voice snapped Liam back to reality. He looked at the instruction manual and powered on the robot. “Please enter the operating password,” a cold, mechanical voice announced. “Dad, why does this robot need a password? I wanna play, I wanna play! Come on, think of the password!” Liam’s face darkened, but he continued to try. “March 13, 1992.” That was my birthday. It was surprising he even remembered. But the expected “password correct” didn’t sound. Next, he tried Leo’s birthday, his own birthday, and our wedding anniversary. All were wrong. Liam’s face was grim. He kicked the robot to the side. Leo, startled, began to cry. Liam, however, wasn’t in the mood to comfort him. He called Mrs. Miller, the junk collector. When Mrs. Miller arrived, he had already gathered my old belongings, ready for them to be taken away. She first carried off my clothes, then my books, then my miscellaneous items. Every trace of my existence was slowly being erased. As she left, she glanced at the robot lying on the floor, but Liam called out, telling her to take that too. After Mrs. Miller left, Leo picked up a small notebook from the floor and handed it to Liam. “Dad, you dropped a notebook.” Liam was about to take it and throw it away, but for some reason, he hesitated, a strange impulse making him open it. [July 14: Today I’m getting married. We’re broke, but I believe in him, and I believe in myself. We’ll have a good life.] [December 22: Research is going well. New breakthrough. If all goes as planned, it’ll be in production within five years. One step closer to my dream.]
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