For a second, I imagined it: a new city, a beautiful house, a family, money in the bank, and not a single worry in the world.
Then I remembered I was standing with one hand on a coffin, trying not to collapse. Alone.
“There’s no going back, but we can still have a good life.”
I looked at him and felt the last of my love break.
The bus began to slow down as it headed to the next stop. I picked up my bag and stood up.
Karl also stood up. “You’ve made the right decision. We’ll get off here, go to the airport, and then…”
“No, Karl. Unless you plan to accompany me to the nearest police station, I'm not going anywhere with you.”
“You wouldn’t… how could you? After everything I’ve done for you.”
I stared at him for a long moment. At the man I had loved, the man I had married, the man whose death had almost killed me.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“You did it on your own. You expected me to go along with it, but I won’t. I’ve recorded everything and I’m going to take it to the police.”
The woman on the other side of the hall applauded.
The bus doors hissed open. I walked past Karl and headed into the aisle.
“Megan, please…” Karl pleaded from behind me. “Don’t do this. Don’t destroy our chance at happiness.”
I got off the bus. Across the street was a police station. For a second, I stood there trembling, my wedding ring suddenly feeling heavy in my hand.
“Don’t destroy our chance to be happy.”
Then I left. I didn't look back. I went into the police station and stood in front of the counter. I took out my phone and found the recording of Karl's confession.
Standing there, waiting to denounce my husband's misdeeds, I understood one thing with sudden and brutal clarity: After all, Karl had died on our wedding day.
Not his body, nor his heart.
But the man she thought she knew was gone.
After all, Karl had died on our wedding day.
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