𝑨𝒅𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒏𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒚𝒍𝒆𝒔

     The doctor who tended to Jeff after he tried to cut an artery said he was fine, so we could see him. I revealed myself to Ella after I phoned her and told her to call an ambulance. Luckily she appeared early to stop Jeff from killing himself.

     Ella told me about Jeff’s PTSD, confirming my suspicion after watching him from the footage wake up constantly from nightmares. I never imagined he’d be this miserable after my death. He probably regretted betraying me. I have to see him one last time. I don’t want to, but based on what Ella has told me, seeing him might help his recovery.

     As I walk toward his cubicle, I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. This is the man who hurt me once, and I’m afraid he might do it again. Then I remind myself I’m just seeing him. After that, I won’t have to see him anymore. I’m not Adrienne Styles. I’m no longer his wife, so I’m not obliged to stay with him ever again.

     When I step inside his curtained cubicle, he’s sitting on the bed, looking haggard. I never imagined Jeff would languish from my suicide after what he did to me. That’s when it dawns on me that he truly regretted betraying me. Perhaps, if I had had a little patience, he’d have told me about it. But there’s no need to cry over spilt milk. Jeff isn’t perfect. I’m starting to see that now. Maybe I expected too much from him, and when he couldn’t live up to my expectations, I was disheartened so much that I wanted out of the marriage.

     Partly I feel I’m also at fault. I wanted a perfect husband, forgetting that perfection can’t be demanded.

     He looks up when I enter. He doesn’t immediately recognize me because he just stares at me, as though trying to remember where he knows me from.

     “Jeff,” I say, my heart pounding in anticipation of his reaction.

     “Adrienne,” he says. “Is that you?”

     With a wistful smile, I bob my head.

     He springs up from the bed and runs toward me, pulling me into a hug.

     “I thought you died.” He strokes my hair, hugging me so tightly that I can hardly breathe. He feels like the old Jeff. I hug him back and brush his hair.

     “I didn’t die. I faked my death to get away. I wanted a new life without you in it. You betrayed me.”

     “Yes, I did. Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to hurt you. It was never my intention.” Tears glide down his face.

      I hold back my tears. “I know, Jeff. I do now. I forgive you. I’m also sorry for what I did.”

     We continue to embrace each other. I can’t deny I’ve missed the old Jeff. I’ve missed who I used to be, but I can’t be that person again. We pull apart and lock eyes.

     “Are you coming back?” he implores.

     “No, Jeff. Adrienne Styles is dead. The woman you knew died in that car accident. I can’t be your wife after what you did to me.”

     He fondles my cheek, and I don’t cringe. If this is going to comfort him, then I won’t object.

     “I’m sorry.”

     “I know.”

     We continue to stare. He brings his lips close to mine and kisses me. I don’t feel anything, so I don’t kiss him back. I know it’s hard for him to accept Adrienne Styles is dead, but he has no choice. He can’t revive a dead woman. Once dead, forever dead.

     “This is where we part ways,” I say, slowly pulling away from him. He doesn’t want to let go of me.

     “Don’t leave me, please. I’m begging you.”

     My eyes become watery, and I blink back the tears. If I return to Jeff, I will forever be living a dead woman’s life.

     “We can’t be together again. You have to understand that. I only came because I don’t want you to feel guilty for something you didn’t do. That’s done. I have to go.”

      He finally releases my hand. We say our goodbyes, then I’m out of the cubicle.