Lost love
Chapter 1
My name is Sarah, and at twenty–eight, I was officially done. I’d put up with my husband, Liam’s, crap for seven years, but his birthday bash was the final straw. It was like a bad movie scene: someone actually paraded a woman in front of me as a gift – like some twisted, misogynistic birthday present. I was done being the quiet, put–together wife. I didn’t just spill my drink; I sent that damn champagne tower crashing to the floor. Then, I packed my
bags and walked out.
Everyone was like, “Oh, poor Sarah, she’ll be
crawling back in three days. She’s got nowhere
else to go.” Liam, of course, couldn’t have
cared less. He was all, “She’s just some orphan
girl, she needs the family money, she ain’t goin‘
anywhere.”
But weeks turned into months, and the chatter
started turning to, “Is she even alive?” That’s
when Liam finally tried to call, only to find my
number was disconnected. Then, some fancy
art gallery had a showing, and this one painting,
a portrait of a woman in profile, completely
floored him. He reportedly offered a crazy
amount of cash to buy it, but the artist, this guy
named Ben, just laughed it off, saying, “Nah,
man, that’s a picture of my wife. It’s priceless to
me.”
Liam’s 28th birthday party. I wore my most
beautiful dress, a sleek black number, and I had
my arm looped in his as we came down the
stairs. But as soon as we hit the bottom, he
shook me off like I was a bad rash, leaving me
standing there alone while he worked the
crowd. I was a forgotten prop in my own
I
marriage.
People kept giving Liam gifts. He’d nod, maybe
a quick “thanks” and his butler would take
them away. Then some clown presents him with
–
this woman – a total knockout, who looked like
she stepped straight out of Liam’s high school
yearbook. Everybody looked at me again, the
same pity, curiosity, and snarky undertones I’ve
dealt with for years. It’s like they all expected
me to just take it.
Liam’s face twitched for a second, like he was
seeing a ghost. This woman looked too much
like his dead girlfriend from college.
“Bringing a woman to my husband while I’m
standing here? You guys got some serious
balls,” Liam quipped, his voice edged with
sarcasm.
The gift–giver stammered something like, “Oh,
Mrs. Sterling is a woman of grace, she wouldn’t
begrudge the man.”
Like I had a choice. I was just supposed to be
grateful for whatever scraps he gave me.
