“New project.”
“Work. You do not need every detail.”
Then came the questions.
They sounded casual on their own, but together, they felt unsettling.
“Do your cousins still check in much?”
“Does your neighbor notice if you are gone overnight?”
“Did you ever update your insurance after we got married?”
“Why are you so interested in my paperwork?”
He smiled, leaned in, and kissed my forehead. “Because I like things organized.”
I told myself I was overthinking.
Then Vanessa showed up at my door.
It was early evening. I was in the kitchen making dinner. At first, I thought Kevin had come home early for once.
Instead, I opened the door to find Vanessa standing there—pale, trembling.
“We need to talk,” she said. “It is about your husband.”
My first instinct was anger.
“You do not get to show up here after what you did at my wedding.”
She looked like she might collapse. “Please, Rose. Just five minutes.”
Reluctantly, I let her in.
She sat on my couch—and then broke down, sobbing so hard it startled me.
“Then I realized you were just the next woman he pulled close.”
I stared at her. “What are you talking about?”
Without another word, she pulled out her phone.
“I finally have enough for you to believe me.”
She showed me a video.
It was grainy surveillance footage, taken from a distance—but I recognized Kevin instantly.
He was standing near the old house Emily had once dreamed of renovating.
A dark-haired woman stood beside him. Together, they were carrying boxes from the trunk of his car into the house.
“What am I looking at?” I asked.
Vanessa zoomed in on one of the boxes as they set it down near the door.
On the side, written in thick black marker, was my first name and maiden initial.
“Keep watching,” she said.
Kevin pulled out a document, held it up to the woman, and laughed.
She took it, and for just a second, the light hit the page clearly enough for me to read the heading.
OBITUARY DRAFT.
“No.”
