Seven Years, A Four-Year Lie

from the guest room. My husband of seven yea

four-year affair with Kiya-the talented girl I

ancakes. He lied to my face, promising he'd never love another, just before I le

red to destroy me. The pain wasn't something I could

rreversible procedure. I didn't want revenge. I wanted to eras

pte

ery

came not as a shout, but as a muffled

d glowing a soft, mocking 2:14 AM. The space beside me in

anding more and more of his time, but he always, always came to bed. Even if it was just to kiss

ll, wrapped in the deep silence of our secluded cliffside property.

frantic, trapped bird. It couldn' t

lights. I moved like a ghost through the familiar shadows of the life I thought we had

ce, deep and familiar, a voice that had once saved my life and had promised

d, but her tone was playful,

as she. The obstacle. The a

ice thick with a desire I hadn' t heard in months. "Bes

d to navigate around, was a physical blow. I pressed my ear ag

laced with a strange mix of admiration and challeng

d, I felt a flicker of hope. He was defending me. But then

i

ocheted thro

Sch

I was personally mentoring, paying for her final year of tuition out of my own

liant, to build my own walls, to never expect anyone to stay. Then Brendan came along. He hadn't just stayed; he had built a

r, championed her work, brought her into my firm, into my life. I had to

a star in his eyes. Just n

oice was a purr now.

t. Youth. Awe. The thrill of the forbidden. Everythi

attered the foundation of my entire world. This wasn't a one-time mistake. This was a comfortable, established

ng enough word. This was an annihilation. The two people I trusted most in the world, the man I ha

my skin, the sound of his laughter, the sight of the home we built together. I wanted

at our wedding photos on the wall. I didn' t look at the city skyline I had de

iends, until I found the one I needed. Dr. Evans Calderon. My old college mentor. A lea

cretive. A highly classified, experimental procedure designed to target and eliminate specific memory

as my onl

s voice groggy with sleep. "Ellery? Is every

," I choked out, my voice a stranger' s, raw and broken. "The

the other end. "Wha

sion crystallizing in my soul with t

be your fir