I woke up from a five-week coma thinking my husband would take my hand and help me find my way back to life. Instead, he told me he wanted a divorce and that he had fallen in love with my sister while I was unconscious. I thought that would be the worst thing I ever survived. I was wrong.
I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, cutting myself out of my own wedding photos.
I had one picture where my husband, Marcus, was smiling at me like I was the only woman in the room. Cutting straight through the middle of us, I whispered, “How could you?” as if paper might answer where people hadn’t.
Then my phone rang.
I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, cutting myself out of my own wedding photos.
My cousin Claire’s name flashed on the screen. I answered because she had become the only person in my family whose voice did not make me feel deserted.
“Betty,” she said, breathless. “Get in your car and come here right now.”
“Claire, what?”
“The wedding venue,” she replied. “Come here immediately. Officers are here. Something crazy is happening and you won’t want to miss it.”
I froze with the scissors still in my hand. Then I heard the noise behind her. Raised voices. Music cut off mid-note. A woman crying in the background as though a very expensive day had gone terribly wrong.
“Get in your car and come here right now.”
“Claire… what is it?” I asked.
“Not over the phone, Bets. Just get here.”
Claire hung up. I dropped the scissors, grabbed my keys, and ran.
Traffic was thick enough to make a person believe in curses. I sat behind brake lights and let the last six months replay.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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