Seven Years Of Marriage Ended By My Fake Funeral

Summary

The third Valentine’s Day since Killian and I separated.

I found him in the downtown piazza, lighting a spectacular burst of fireworks for his mistress.

Our eyes met across the crowd, and for a fleeting, agonizing second, the world fell silent.

Jules, my childhood friend, pulled me close. He pressed a freshly purchased hot latte into my hand and steered me through the throng, his arm a solid, grounding weight around my waist.

That night, well after midnight, I heard the faint snick of the lock turning.

I didn't have time to react.