No More Coming Back, Ex-Husband

I stood in the shadows of a marble pillar, invisible in my red dress, while George and Donna paraded through the center of the room.

"Oh, George, look at this one!" Donna squealed, pointing a manicured finger at a sapphire necklace that cost more than my father’s house. "It matches my eyes perfectly."

"Then it’s yours," George said, his voice smooth as silk. He raised his paddle without even looking at the price.

I watched as the auctioneer slammed the gavel. Sold.

I was the wife. I was the one standing there with the ring on my finger. Yet, I was treated like the hired help, holding Donna’s coat while she draped herself over my husband. People whispered behind their programs, their eyes darting from Donna’s triumph to my humiliation.

I felt bile rise in my throat and slipped away toward the restrooms, needing a moment to breathe.

As I turned the corner near the private viewing alcove, I heard them.

"Why did you bring her?" Donna’s voice was a harsh whisper. "It’s embarrassing, George. Everyone is staring. We should just end her. Or divorce her. Why drag this out?"

I froze, pressing my back against the cold wall.

"The doctor failed for some reasons, but I realized not yet," George replied, his tone dark and amused. "Divorce is messy right now with the merger. Besides..." I heard the rustle of fabric, the sound of him pulling her close. "I enjoy torturing her. Did you see her face when I bought you the necklace? It was priceless."

"You’re terrible," Donna giggled.

"I’m practical. And I’m yours."

Then came the wet, sickening sound of them kissing.

The evening was a blur of misery. We arrived at the Caldwell estate for his grandfather’s 80th birthday. The air in the grand dining room was stifling, heavy with the scent of roast duck and judgment.

"So," Grandfather Caldwell boomed from the head of the table, his bushy white eyebrows drawn together. He didn't look at George; he looked straight at me. "Another year, and still no heir."

The room went silent. The clinking of silverware stopped.

"Grandfather," I started, my voice small. "I..."

"I heard about the hospital," the old man interrupted, slamming his wine glass down. "Careless. Absolutely careless. You had one job, Eliza. To carry the Caldwell line. And you lost it."

"It wasn't my fault," I whispered, tears stinging my eyes despite my resolve.

"It is always the mother's responsibility!" he shouted. "You are weak! A weak vessel produces nothing but dust!"

"Grandfather, please," George interjected, placing a protective hand over mine on the table. It felt like a branding iron. "Don't be so hard on her. Eliza is... fragile. She did her best. It’s not her fault she isn't strong enough to carry a Caldwell child."

He looked at me with sad, pitying eyes—a performance worthy of an Oscar.

"She’s trying to recover," George added, sighing. "We just have to accept that she might never be able to give us what we need."

The table murmured in sympathy—for him.

I sat there, frozen, letting them paint me as the broken, barren victim. I didn't fight back. I didn't scream. I just stared at the candle flame flickering in the center of the table, imagining it burning the whole house down.

The drive home was quiet. The rain had started to fall, slicking the winding roads with a dangerous sheen.

I sat in the back seat. George was driving, with Donna in the passenger seat. She was humming softly, playing with the sapphire necklace around her neck.

"George, slow down," I said, noticing the speedometer creeping up. "The roads are wet."

"Relax, Eliza," he scoffed, watching me in the rearview mirror. "I know how to drive my own car."

"But—"

"I said relax!"

He turned his head to glare at me.

That was the moment the world ended.

A horn blasted—loud, deafening, terrified.

George whipped his head back around, but it was too late.

Twin beams of blinding light filled the windshield. A massive truck was skidding across the center line, jackknifing on the wet asphalt.

"George!" Donna screamed.

He slammed on the brakes. The tires locked. The car spun.

CRASH.

The sound was like the earth splitting open. Metal screamed against metal. Glass shattered into a million diamonds. The world tumbled over and over, a kaleidoscope of darkness and pain.

Then, sudden, violent stillness.

I was hanging upside down. The seatbelt cut into my chest like a knife. My head throbbed with a blinding rhythm, and warm liquid trickled into my eyes.

"Ugh..."

I tried to move, but my legs were pinned. The door was crushed inward.

"George?" I croaked.

Smoke began to fill the cabin, acrid and choking.

"Donna! Donna, are you okay?" George’s voice was panicked, coming from the front.

"My stomach!" Donna shrieked. "George, it hurts! The baby! Oh god, the baby!"

I saw George scramble out of the driver's side window, cutting his hand on the broken glass. He fell onto the wet road, then scrambled to the passenger side. He ripped the door open.

"I've got you," he panted, pulling Donna out. She was clutching her stomach, wailing.

"George..." I whispered, reaching a hand out toward the gap between the seats. "Help me... I'm stuck..."

George looked back.

His face was illuminated by the headlights of the truck. He saw me. He saw the blood on my face. He saw the smoke curling around my legs.

He hesitated.

"George, please," I begged. "The car... it’s going to catch fire."

He looked at Donna, who was sobbing about her baby—his baby. Then he looked at me.

"I..." He took a step back, supporting Donna. "I have to get her to the hospital. She’s bleeding, Eliza!"

"What about me?" I cried, the smoke stinging my lungs.

"I'll come back for you!" he yelled over the sound of the rain. "Just wait! I'll come back!"

He turned around.

He didn't look back. He helped Donna toward the truck driver who was running over, leaving me trapped in the twisted metal.

"George!" I screamed, but my voice was swallowed by the night.

The smoke got thicker. Orange flames licked at the hood of the car. The heat began to rise.

I watched their silhouettes disappear into the darkness.

He left me. He actually left me to die.

My hand fell limp. The pain faded, replaced by a cold, heavy numbness.

So this is my end?