“Look who won. Me. Poor Lesley. Your husband doesn’t even look at you. Do everyone a favor. Disappear. That’ll make life easier for all of us.”
I stared at the black screen. My chest burned. No tears. I turned to my mother and whispered, “Do it now, Mum.”
She didn’t hesitate. She pulled out her phone, face unreadable. I watched her make calls quietly. Shadows moved across the city that night. Cars drove empty streets. Envelopes changed hands. My phone ended up somewhere it shouldn’t have.
I didn’t ask for details. Didn’t want to know.
All I remember was tires screeching, headlights flashing, then silence. My phone abandoned, my wedding ring and bracelet planted like proof for someone else to find. My mother’s face calm, staring down at the staged wreck.
By morning, news broke everywhere. “Local woman killed in car crash en route to hospital.” Reporters buzzing, police tape flapping, neighbors crying. No confirmed name, but my phone and ring were shown. Proof enough.
In the suite, the TV glowed. My mother turned it off, hand steady. “It’s done, child,” she said.
I nodded. My chest was full of grief and relief all tangled together. I couldn’t tell which was which.