The Wife Who Was Never Mine

The familiar suffocating feeling rushed in. I grabbed at my throat and dragged in air, one breath at a time.

Olivia Jones handed me a bottle of water out of habit, rubbing my back, her voice still cool.

"The day you were diagnosed, Randall called and said he felt terrible. Turns out he just needed someone to take it out on. To be exact, we were just sleeping together. Legally."

I forced the water down. My stomach turned.

My mind slipped back to the day of the crash. I was waiting outside the OR, and Olivia never showed.

The doctors tried calling her over and over, but she didn't pick up.

The hallway was empty. I was left there alone, crying until my voice went hoarse.

After that, I couldn't stand being by myself. Work would set me off. Even a baby crying could push me over the edge.

The doctor called it severe depression.

Olivia pulled the car over, grabbed a couple of tissues, and wiped my face.

"So…" I swallowed. "You already had a husband. Why have a kid with me?"

Her hand paused. Then she gave a small, careless smile.

"I told you. Marrying him was for a stupid promise. Elliot, you're the one I love. I gave you the child you wanted. Isn't that enough?"

She looked at me like she expected me to agree. Like I should be grateful.

Everything I had been holding onto gave way.

Just hours ago, I sat in that office and answered every question the therapist asked, leaning on rehearsed answers, forcing down the urge to end it.

I finally got the diagnosis I had been desperate for.

I thought today could be a new start for us.

Tears poured down my face. "Olivia, you're a terrible person."

She watched me for a second, then laughed.

"Maybe, but I stayed with you through your worst years. To you and the kid, I was a good wife and a good mom."

That was when it hit me how stupid I had been.

When I didn't respond, she reached over, almost relieved, and patted my head before pulling back onto the road.

Her phone rang.

"Honey, I miss you. I forgot to tell you this morning, the vase at home…"

Randall Talbot's voice came through, casual, talking about their home like always.

Olivia softened, answering him the same way. Then she glanced at me and smiled.

"Randall needs me. I have to go. We're close. You can walk from here."

She pulled over and made me get out.

It was a ten-minute walk, but it felt a lot longer.

When I got home, I pulled the sleeping pills out of the trash and swallowed them all.