His Wife, Her Stranger

Instead of going home with her father, Charlotte went to a park filled with couples laughing and enjoying each other’s company. The sound of their laughter echoed faintly in her ears, almost like a distant memory she could no longer reach. She sat quietly on a bench, her gaze unfocused, her thoughts heavy and tangled.

Three weeks in the hospital.

Three long weeks.

And not once had Michael come to see her.

Not even a call.

Not even a message.

She should have expected this. Deep down, she had known something like this would happen, yet it still hurt more than she could bear. It wasn’t just the absence—it was the confirmation of everything she had been trying so hard to ignore.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the borrowed phone resting in her palm. The couple who had lent it to her stood a few steps away, watching her with quiet concern. They had noticed the way her hands trembled and how her breathing seemed uneven, like she was holding herself together by a fragile thread.

Charlotte lowered her head and dialed his number.

Each digit felt heavier than the last.

As the call began to ring, she stepped aside, needing a bit of distance, as though that alone would give her strength. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest, and her lips moved silently in prayer.

Please… just this once.

Pick up.

“Hello? Who is this?” Michael’s voice came through, calm and slightly drowsy.

Her breath caught in her throat.

“It’s me… please don’t hang up,” she said quickly, her voice shaky but desperate. “Let’s talk this through. You can’t do this to me, I didn’t do anything wrong.”

There was a brief pause on the other end.

Then she heard it.

The woman's voice.

Soft, familiar in the worst possible way.

Charlotte’s heart sank instantly.

“Are you serious right now?” Michael said, his tone turning cold without warning. “What part of ‘it’s over’ don’t you understand? I already sent the divorce papers. They’ve been signed.”

Charlotte froze completely.

Signed?

Her mind struggled to process the word. She had never signed anything. No papers had been given to her. No conversation had taken place.

So how…?

“No… please,” her voice trembled, barely holding together. “I know this isn’t what you want. Don’t let your mother—”

“Don’t call this number again,” he cut in sharply. “If you do, you’ll regret it.”

The line went dead.

For a moment, Charlotte didn’t move.

She just stood there, staring at the phone as if it might somehow come back to life, as if he might call back and say it was all a mistake.

But nothing happened.

Slowly, her hand dropped to her side.

She walked back to the couple and returned the phone, forcing herself to speak. “Thank you,” she murmured softly, avoiding their eyes.

They didn’t say anything, but the pity in their expressions was enough to make her chest tighten again.

Charlotte turned away and returned to her seat.

This time, she didn’t try to stop the tears.

They came freely, silently, tracing warm paths down her cheeks. She didn’t sob, didn’t make a sound—she just sat there, letting everything inside her slowly fall apart.

The laughter around her felt distant now.

Mocking.

Like the world was moving on without her.

She pressed her lips together, trying to steady herself, but it was useless. The weight in her chest only grew heavier, suffocating her little by little.

Unable to bear the stares she was beginning to attract, Charlotte stood up and made her way toward the restroom.

Once inside, she stepped into a stall and locked the door behind her.

And then she broke.

The sobs came all at once—raw, uncontrollable, echoing against the walls of the small space. She pressed her hand against her mouth, trying to muffle the sound, but it didn’t help.

Everything she had held back for weeks came pouring out.

The pain.

The humiliation.

The betrayal.

No one came to check on her.

No one knocked.

And for the first time… she didn’t expect anyone to.

She was used to this.

Being alone.

Being ignored.

Being left behind.

Minutes passed—she didn’t know how many. Time had lost meaning.

Eventually, the sobs subsided, replaced by quiet, uneven breaths.

About thirty minutes later, Charlotte stepped out of the stall.

Her eyes were swollen and red, her face pale, but her expression had changed. The pain was still there, but it had settled into something quieter… something emptier.

She walked to the sink and turned on the tap, splashing cold water on her face. She stared at her reflection for a long moment, barely recognizing the woman looking back at her.

‘I’ll be fine,’ she told herself silently.

‘I have to be.’

There was no one else she could rely on.

No one else who would pick her up.

After a few more seconds, she forced a small smile—one that didn’t quite reach her eyes—and turned away.

When she returned to the park, she chose a different spot to sit, farther from where she had been before. This time, she kept her distance, as though trying to separate herself from everything around her.

She watched the couples quietly.

They laughed, teased each other, leaned into one another like the world belonged only to them.

Charlotte looked away after a while, a faint, sad smile forming on her lips.

She had never had that.

Not even once.

Not even in the beginning.

“Hello, dear.”

Charlotte blinked, startled, and looked up.

An elderly woman stood before her, her posture straight, her expression calm, and her eyes unusually sharp despite the gentle smile on her lips.

“Are you here alone?” the woman asked.

Charlotte hesitated, then nodded slightly.

The woman studied her carefully, as though she could see through every layer Charlotte had tried to build around herself.

“You just got your heart broken, didn’t you?” she said calmly.

Charlotte stiffened.

“How—”

“I heard your call,” the woman replied simply. “And I can see it in your eyes.”

Charlotte looked away, uncomfortable. “I’m not interested in sympathy,” she said quietly.

The woman chuckled softly.

“I’m not offering sympathy.”

Charlotte frowned slightly, confused.

“I’m offering you a way out.”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

The woman took a small step closer, her gaze steady.

“Marry my son.”

Charlotte stared at her, certain she had misheard.

“What?”

“You don’t have to love him,” the woman continued calmly. “Just agree, and your life will change.”

Charlotte let out a small, disbelieving laugh, shaking her head.

“I just got divorced. Why would I jump into another marriage?”

The woman didn’t seem bothered by her reaction. Instead, she looked at her more closely, as though measuring something.

“Because staying like this will destroy you,” she said quietly.

Charlotte froze.

The words hit deeper than she expected.

Still, she shook her head.

“I’m not interested.”

She stood up, gripping her bag tightly, ready to leave.

This conversation was absurd.

Her life had just fallen apart, and now this woman was offering her another marriage like it was some kind of solution.

She turned to walk away.

“Name your price,” the woman said calmly behind her.

Charlotte stopped.

Her steps faltered.

“And I’ll pay it.”