"From the symptoms, he swallowed a lethal dose of chloride."

The police found my phone under the couch and scrolled through the contacts until they reached the number saved under "Wife."

When the call came through, Ronan had Tilda pinned to the bed in our bedroom.

Beneath them was the blue-gray bedding I'd picked out myself.

Our wedding photo still hung on the wall.

Seeing the unknown number flashing on the screen, Ronan snatched it up and hit accept.

"Am I speaking with Jack Delgado's family?"

"This is the Union Avenue Police Station."

He hung up before the voice on the other end could finish.

Tilda turned her head to glance at it, but Ronan simply added the number to the block list and tossed the phone onto the bed.

"Jack's still trying to give himself a way to save face."

"Paid somebody off somewhere to pretend they're from the police and call you."

Tilda let out a cold laugh.

"He's the one who sank this low, and he still has the nerve to make me come get him?"

"All these years married, and the one thing he actually learned was how to run little scams."

Ronan suddenly wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face against her, his voice thick with false feeling.

"Tilda, honestly, I envy Jack."

"He's lucky. Good family growing up, got into a good college, has a wife as good as you."

"Me, I've got nothing."

"Tilda, if you can't bear to let him go, then go bring him home."

Her hand rose, then dropped, and finally settled on Ronan's shoulder.

"You stay here tonight. The moment he crawls back, I'll divorce him."

Ronan looked overwhelmed by the favor, his eyes shining as he gazed at her.

"But what about Jack?"

"Jack and I are the closest of brothers…"

Tilda gave another cold laugh, pushing down the odd irritation stirring in her chest.

"If he likes climbing into other people's beds so much, he can just never come back."

"Doesn't he love money?"

"Give him a hundred grand. That squares us."

Five years of her youth.

More than eighteen hundred days and nights.

She'd bought it all out for a hundred thousand.

I was already dead.

And still, in that instant, my heart stopped for a second.

I dragged my mouth into a bitter smile.

Congratulations.

No divorce needed. Just widowed.

She saved the hundred grand to buy out the marriage, and even the ten dollars for two divorce certificates.

A flash of secret glee crossed Ronan's eyes.

His hands roamed over her, restless, until she caught them and pinned them still.

"It's late. You get some sleep first."

"I still have company business to handle."

Ronan held her tight from behind, his voice soft as water.

"But this room is full of Jack's things."

"It feels a little strange, staying here."

Her steps paused.

After a moment, she said it offhandedly.

"Anything you don't like the look of, just throw it out."

"From now on, you're the man of this house."

Ronan's eyes lit up, and he pointed at the row of cabinets by the bed.

"Can I throw these out too?"

Eagerly, he hauled out the box I'd hidden at the very back.

"Tilda, these look like things left over from when you two were dating."

I drifted over and looked.

Inside were nothing but worthless little things.

An instant ramen wrapper, a faded, warped mechanical watch, and a thick stack of stubs from an old cross-country train.

All keepsakes from back when Tilda and I were dating.

At our lowest, the two of us shared a single pack of instant ramen.

She only drank the broth and left all the noodles for me.

To save money, every business trip I took the cheapest cross-country train, standing eight hours at a stretch.

The money he saved bought me my first watch.

I wore that watch for years. Even when the color faded and the band warped, I couldn't bring myself to throw it out.

After we married, every time something wounded me, I'd take that watch out and put it on.

I'd tell myself the good in the past was real, that whatever friction we had now, if I just endured it, it would pass.

Tilda barely glanced at the box. Her face didn't move.

"Throw it all out."

"He's always loved using this junk to guilt me. Reminding me how much he suffered for me."

"Let's see what he has to say after this."

Then she picked up the box and, without a moment's hesitation, hurled it out the window.

I heard the dull thud below.

And strangely, in that instant, I went calm.

To me, those memories of hardship shared had been a shield, enough to smooth over countless cracks in our marriage.

To her, they were nothing but emotional blackmail. A curse chaining her down.

The love I'd treasured like something rare had already rotted through from the inside.

After Tilda went to the spare room, Ronan found the suicide note under my pillow.

He read that I'd already taken the poison, that I meant to die together with the creditor who'd driven Tilda to ruin.

He froze for a second.

He walked to the door a few times. In the end he folded that note carefully, over and over, and tucked it into his own pocket.

Ronan sat on the bed for two full hours.

Finally he took out his phone, used AI to fake a photo of me with my arm around a Black man, and sent it to Tilda.

"Jack says he's gone on vacation with his new girlfriend. He wants us to wish him well."

"Since that's how it is, why don't we stop waiting for him?"

The moment Tilda saw it, she smashed her fist through the mirror.

"Jack Delgado, you've got some nerve!"

"You really thought I'd sit here pining over a piece of trash like you!"

"I'll show you right now. I do just fine without you!"

She'd worked herself into a fury, and on the spot she announced in the family group chat that she'd be getting engaged to Ronan tomorrow.

I drifted in the air, looking at the shadows bruising under her eyes, and felt only how pitiful it all was.

Even an enemy, getting a call from the police, would cooperate with the investigation.

But my wife, the woman I'd shared a bed with, couldn't even be bothered to confirm whether I was dead.

Early the next morning, relatives came pouring in to congratulate her until the villa was packed.

Diana couldn't stop smiling. She dragged Ronan around by the hand, introducing him to everyone.

"This is Ronan, my new son-in-law."

"He's got a lucky face, too. Much better than that dark, dirt-poor Jack Delgado."

In the middle of all the congratulations, the front door suddenly slammed open.

The creditor who'd once helped Tilda stage the whole thing came stumbling in.

She looked around, then threw herself straight into Tilda's arms.

"Tilda... something's happened! Your husband poisoned himself last night!"

"The officers pulled me in this morning to cooperate with the investigation!"

The creditor looked terrified, like she'd seen a ghost, clutching Tilda and unable to get the words out straight.

Tilda's face went ashen. She shoved her away.

"Jack's making trouble, and now you're playing along with him?"

"A kept man like him, kill himself? Don't make me laugh."

"Go tell Jack."

"If he actually knows he was wrong, he can crawl back here right now, instead of pulling these shameful little stunts!"

Then she picked up her glass.

Just as she was about to raise a toast, a squad of officers pushed through the crowd toward her.

They flashed their badges, then pulled out a fresh autopsy report and threw it in Tilda's face.

"Tilda Gilbert."

"Your husband, Jack Delgado, died last night at eleven from poisoning, in Suite 306 of the Grand Joyance Hotel."

"The reason for the suicide has not yet been determined."

"We need you to cooperate with our investigation immediately."