Love's Wrong Turn

In the sixth year of my marriage with Zach Elroy, his workplace finally allocated us a small, two-room flat.

I was overjoyed. I told our daughter she would finally have a bed of her own.

But Zach said coldly, "This room is for Jennifer and her daughter. You and Kathy can keep sleeping on the floor."

In my past life, we fought bitterly over it. He eventually gave in.

But while I was away on a work trip, he went back on his word. He brought Jennifer Cross into our home and made our daughter, Kathy, sleep on the floor.

That night, when Kathy came down with a high fever and cried out that she felt sick, he was reading Jennifer and her daughter a bedtime story.

Our daughter passed away that night.

Now, in this life, I calmly laid out the bedding on the floor and said, "Whatever."

After work, I went to pick up Kathy from daycare. When we got home, I stepped through the door and saw clothes scattered across the floor.

The room that I thought belonged to me and Kathy now had photos of Jennifer Cross and her daughter hanging on the walls.

The clothes I had folded and put neatly in the wardrobe had been thrown out.

What little remained of our belongings—mine and Kathy's—was dumped in the courtyard like garbage.

When Jennifer saw me come in with Kathy, she looked surprised, though her face was laced with mockery and contempt.

"Sorry, Anna," she said with a sneer. "I was just clearing out some unwanted stuff. Zach said I should move in here with Felicia. You and Kathy will have to make do in the kitchen tonight."

There was not a trace of apology in her face. Just smugness.

I glanced toward the inner room, at the princess bed. My fingertips curled into my palm, digging deep. And I let out a laugh, low and bitter.

That bed was clearly the latest trend, expensive, no doubt.

Jennifer didn't even have a job. There was no question—Zach had bought it.

Last month, I'd asked him for a few dollars to buy Kathy a pencil case. He had flown into a rage, shouting that I didn't know how to manage money.

He said Kathy was spoiled, always comparing herself to other kids at school.

His salary wasn't much, he said. He couldn't just waste it.

But somehow, he had no problem spending a small fortune on that bed—because it was for Jennifer's daughter.

In my previous life, I never understood why Zach was always so good to her child. I didn't find out until the end, right before I died. Jennifer was his first love. He had never stopped thinking about her.

Kathy squatted down and quietly picked up her clothes, then looked up at me, eyes full of confusion.

"Mommy, why did Daddy give my room to someone else?"

I gently cupped her face and smiled faintly.

"What he does isn't up to us."

Just as I finished laying the bedding in the kitchen, Zach came home.

He was holding a fish and smiling as he walked toward me, calling me sweetly, "Anna darling, I bought a fish. I'll make pickled fish for you and Kathy later. I remember you both used to say you missed my cooking."

Kathy was off to the side doing homework. He gave her a warm look he hadn't shown in ages, kissed her cheek, and proudly held out a pencil case.

"Kathy, look what Daddy got you—the latest model. Do you like it?"

I glanced away, indifferent. His actions were obvious to me. He felt guilty for moving Jennifer and her daughter in without a word. This was his way of making amends.

A slap, followed by a candy. That was all this was.

Kathy wriggled out of his arms and came to stand by me. She wasn't excited at all. She just shook her head lightly.

"I don't like it anymore," she said.

Zach's face darkened instantly. He hurled the pencil case to the ground, shattering it into pieces.

"I come home bearing gifts, and this is what I get? What's with the sour faces? You've turned the girl against me!"

I pulled Kathy into my arms, shielding her, and looked at him. There was only sorrow in my heart, a cold kind of resignation.

I smiled bitterly and said, "Yeah. We're just not the kind of people others want to keep around."