Let My Death Be the End of Our Story

“Evie, promise me—if you’re ever feeling unwell, you’ll tell me right away, okay?” Hunter’s voice was soft, almost pleading.

Evelyn studied him, her thoughts drifting back to their wedding day. She remembered asking him if he’d love her forever.

Hunter had held her close that day, trembling as if the question alone shook him. “You are my everything. I will never betray you,” he had said, his voice quivering with emotion.

But now, looking at the man in front of her, Evelyn couldn’t help but wonder if those vows had already crumbled into lies.

“What’s on your mind?” Hunter’s gentle touch brought her back to the present. His fingers brushed her hair as he leaned closer, his brow furrowed with concern. “Are you feeling uncomfortable? Should I call the doctor?”

Evelyn met his gaze and asked quietly, “Hunter, do you love me?”

“Of course, I love you,” he replied without hesitation, though her question made him pause. “Is everything okay?” His eyes narrowed slightly, confusion creeping into his expression. “Why do I feel that you’re not acting like yourself lately, Evie? Is there something wrong?”

Before he could press further, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and his demeanor shifted instantly. “Sorry,” he said, slipping his phone into his pocket. “There’s an issue at the construction site for one of our projects. I need to go handle it, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise. Rest up, alright?”

Without waiting for her response, he hurried out the door, leaving Evelyn alone in the quiet hospital room.

Evelyn stared at the door Hunter had just walked through. Before she could process her thoughts, her phone buzzed. It was a message from Jennifer. Reluctantly, she opened it and was greeted with a picture: Jennifer, lounging on a bed in seductive lingerie, her pose casual yet deliberate. The accompanying text read: What excuse did he give you this time?

Evelyn’s grip tightened around her phone, her knuckles turning white. The sharp ache in her chest was almost unbearable, as if someone were slowly carving into her with a dull blade.

This wasn’t the first time Jennifer had reached out. For the past two weeks, she had been sending pictures and messages, each one more brazen than the last. Evelyn had ignored them all, refusing to engage, but her silence seemed to only embolden Jennifer.

She stared at the screen for a long moment before finally setting the phone down. Exhaustion overwhelmed her and she drifted off to sleep.

When she woke up, it was late afternoon. The housekeeper was sitting by her bed and her phone was buzzing again.

This time, the messages were worse.

Photos of a disheveled bed, a close-up of intertwined hands in a foggy shower and a trash can filled with used condoms. Evelyn’s stomach churned, but her expression remained blank as she powered off the screen.

“Let’s go,” she said to the housekeeper.

***

When Evelyn walked into the house, Margaux quickly approached her, taking both of Evelyn’s hands in her own with concern.

“My goodness, sweetheart, you look so pale and thin. Don’t worry, I’ve already asked someone to make you some chicken soup. Once it’s ready, Tessa will bring it up to your room.”

“Thanks,” Evelyn replied, her voice flat and emotionless.

Margaux took a moment to observe her, ensuring Evelyn was in a decent mood before continuing, “I hope you understand. Hunter’s been really busy with work lately. I hope you don’t feel like he’s ignoring you. He loves you, you know.”

Evelyn met her gaze, her eyes calm but unwavering. After a long pause, she finally spoke, her voice quiet yet piercing, “Busy with work? Really?”

Margaux blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Well, obviously. If it weren’t for work, you know he’d be glued to your side. That boy adores you.”

Evelyn’s lips curled into a faint smile—one that didn’t reach her eyes. She said nothing more, letting Margaux’s words hang in the air as she made her way to the study to catch up on work.

Hunter returned the next morning, dressed in a freshly pressed suit. The moment he stepped inside, his eyes scanned Evelyn’s face anxiously. He rushed to her side, pressing a hand to her forehead.

“No fever. That’s good. Are you feeling okay? Do you feel uncomfortable anywhere?”

“I’m fine,” she replied evenly.

Relief washed over his features as he pulled her into a tight embrace. “I’m so sorry, Evie. I should’ve stayed with you at the hospital. I feel terrible for leaving you alone.”

Evelyn tilted her head to look at him, her gaze steady. Her eyes landed on the collar of his crisp white shirt.

And there it was—a faint smudge of lipstick, glaringly out of place.