Dear Ex-wife, You're More Than A Substitute

TESSA’S POVThere’s something about the cold air at the orphanage that always stings my eyes, maybe it’s the wind or maybe it’s just me being overly emotional again. I come here every December, like clockwork. It started as something... something to keep my hands busy. I told myself I was just dropping off knitted scarves and cookies. But really, I think I just needed to be around kids, any kids. Even if they weren’t mine. “Miss Tessa!” one of the little girls called as she ran up to me, her boots crunching in the gravel. Her name was Lila. She couldn’t be more than six years old, with messy pigtails and a chipped front tooth. I knelt down to her level and held out a soft pink scarf. “This one’s yours.” Her face lit up like I’d just handed her gold. “It’s so soft!” she squealed, wrapping it clumsily around her neck. “Did you really make this?” “I did,” I said with a smile. “All by hand.” “It smells like cookies,” she added, sniffing it. I laughed a little. “That’s probably beca

I woke up to the sound of Richard’s phone buzzing against the nightstand. It was still early, too early. The sun hadn't even filtered in through the curtains yet, but he stirred beside me, blindly reaching out for the device. I didn’t say anything at first. I just watched him from the curve of the pillow, my cheek pressed against the cool linen, eyes half-lidded. He squinted at the screen, then smiled. Not just a twitch of the lips, not the half-hearted grin he gave me when he was trying to humor me. This one was real. Bright, even. It made something in my chest twist. "Good news?" I asked softly, my voice raspy with sleep. He looked startled like he’d forgotten I was there. Then he smiled again, the one he meant for me this time. “Yeah. Work stuff. Just a project finally coming together.” I gave him a small nod, forcing my voice to sound light. “That’s great.” I didn’t push. I didn’t ask to see the message. I never did. I was Mrs. Anderson, after all... the wife. Not the investi

I couldn’t ignore the growing storm inside me anymore. At first, I tried to silence it. I distracted myself with chores, tried to focus on meals and anniversaries and the way Richard smiled when he walked through the door. I told myself I was overthinking, that maybe I was just too sensitive. I blamed my hormones, the medication, even the tonic that upset my stomach. But deep down, something had shifted. I no longer felt seen... just watched. As if I were being studied… or guarded. Especially when he kissed my eyes. That should’ve been the first real clue, shouldn’t it? No matter how passionate or rushed our nights were, Richard never forgot to cup my face gently, lean in, and kiss my eyes like they were sacred. Like they were the best part of me. I used to find it romantic. Now, I wasn’t so sure. The message from the hospital 'Miss Stacy has finally woken up' had haunted me for days. It clung to the back of my mind like cobwebs I couldn’t wipe away. I had wanted to ask him outri

RICHARD’S POV Tessa had left for errands. I watched her from the upstairs window as she drove away, until the gates closed behind her. I should’ve told her. I wanted to. But every time I looked into those eyes, I lost my nerve. She trusted me. And I was betraying that trust in ways I couldn’t even begin to explain. I picked up my keys from the console. My hands were steady, but my chest wasn’t. It had become a ritual I hadn’t meant to form, visiting Stacy whenever Tessa wasn’t looking. Just to be sure she was safe. Breathing. Still fighting. It wasn’t just love but was guilt... guilt that never left. The drive to the hospital was quiet. Familiar. I knew the route too well by now. I parked in the farthest corner of the lot where no one would recognize my car and slipped through the back entrance, avoiding eye contact with the front desk nurse. The staff d

TESSA'S POV I walked out of the shower, a towel wrapped tightly around my chest, water still clinging to my skin. The room was dim, only the bedside lamb that casted a soft glow across the space. Richard sat on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone, but he looked up the moment he heard me. "How do you feel now?" he asked, his voice low. "Better," I said, offering a soft smile... lovely on the outside, hollow on the inside. I waited for him to say something more. Anything. Maybe a mention of the hospital, of Stacy. Something that would confirm the gnawing suspicion crawling beneath my skin. But he said nothing. No tension in his tone. No guilt in his eyes. Just calm, like nothing out of the ordinary had happened while I was gone. I stood there a little longer, expecting... hoping. But still, nothing. He reached over to the nightstand and handed me something.