The Actress and the Wife
MARY’S POV:
She was standing exactly where I had left her, her hand still in Alistair’s, her expression wounded and innocent. The slip dress hung from her shoulders like a second skin, pale silk that made her look fragile. Untouchable and definitely the kind of woman you wanted to protect.
The kind of woman I would never be.
I didn’t answer. What was there to say? She had already won. She must have known it. Must have felt it, the way the room had shifted, the way Alistair had chosen her, the way I was standing alone in the doorway of my own home wearing another man’s coat.
Alistair stepped forward, his voice hardening.
“You can’t just leave.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“I won’t allow it.” His jaw was tight, his eyes blazing with something that looked like anger but felt like something else. Something closer to fear. “You’re angry right now. I understand that. But does that mean you’ve done nothing wrong? Vesper was here first. If anyone has been hurt the most in all of this, it’s her.”
Vesper was here first.
The words echoed in my head, bouncing off the walls of my skull, repeating themselves like a song stuck on a broken record. Vesper was here first. As if marriage was a line at the grocery store. As if our daughter was a receipt you could crumple and throw away. As if seven years of my life had been nothing more than a placeholder while he waited for someone else to come back.
I almost laughed.


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