Till Death Do Us Part, And I Chose Death

The entire world envied the perfect relationship I had with my husband and son. Yet, only I knew the truth. My husband had built another family somewhere else with our son by his side.

On the night George Taylor took our son to celebrate his "unforgettable first love" winning the prestigious Best Actress Award at the Achievers Awards Festival, I stumbled upon a video that shattered my world completely.

I chose to fake my death and leave them for good. In one week, I would disappear forever. Neither father nor son would be a part of my life anymore, I didn't want them in my life.

"Miss Taylor, are you certain about staging your own death as a car accident on the tenth of this month? Driving off the Riverside Bridge?"

I hesitated briefly, but the image of George and Candice in that video replayed in my mind. The way he touched her, the way he whispered her name. It stiffened my resolution. So, I nodded resolutely.

"I have one more request," I added. "Make sure George sees it happen. I want him to witness the car going over the bridge with his own eyes."

If I couldn't have George's undivided love, I would ensure that he spent the rest of his life consumed by unrelenting regret.

"That request…," the voice on the other end of the phone hesitated.

"Money is not an issue," I interjected. Then, after I hung up the phone, I glanced at the family photo nearby. The three of us were beaming with joy. My gaze softened with nostalgia.

I still remember the day he proposed, how George had been so nervous that he could barely speak. On the day of our wedding, he had been so overcome with emotion that he wept in front of our guests.

When our son was born, he lovingly wiped the sweat from my brow. He told me that one child was enough. He had even secretly undergone a vasectomy to ensure it.

We had once been so happy, the picture-perfect family everyone envied.

No matter how busy George was, he would always come home with a bouquet of flowers. He always said, "Loving you is like tending a garden. I want to see you bloom every day."

Even our son, Dan Taylor, mimicked his father's gestures. He would proudly carry my bag when we went out and insisted on being my little gentleman. His small face would flush red from the effort, but he never let me worry about a thing.

Who would have thought that the husband and son everyone saw as the epitome of devotion were secretly fawning over another woman?

Countless nights when George claimed to be "away on business," he was whispering sweet words to someone else. Even our son, Dan, had begun calling the woman "sister" with unreserved affection.

That father and son had built a new life outside and hid it from me for three whole years.

I never imagined that after surviving the challenges of young love and the struggles of building a life together, my marriage would succumb to the infamous "seven-year itch."

The video I had discovered earlier that day was still burned into my memory. I had been looking for an old photo on George's laptop when I accidentally opened a hidden folder.

There it was. George and Candice Black, tangled together in sheets I didn't recognize. The timestamp showed it was from last week, when he claimed to be at a business conference in Seattle.

Candice's face was flushed with pleasure, her red lips parted as she called his name. George's hands roamed her body with a familiarity that made my stomach turn.

But what broke me completely was hearing him say the same words he had once whispered to me on our honeymoon. "You're the only one who makes me feel alive."

Those sacred words, now given to someone else.

When I opened my phone, I saw the trending news. The rising star, Candice Black, had just won the Best Actress Award at the Achievers Award Festival. The news was accompanied by an image of the stunning actress in a red gown, radiating beauty and youthfulness.

She was followed by George. He was walking not far behind her, though he had told me that he was at the company. He was not alone but walking hand in hand with Dan, our five-year-old son.

The loving gaze George directed at the woman was the same look he had once reserved for me.

Tonight, it was our seventh wedding anniversary and I had spent the whole day preparing for it. I had personally made George's favorite soup, the beef stew, and made Dan's favorite food, barbecue pork ribs.

Yet neither father nor son came home.

I waited from six o'clock until ten, only to receive a single, curt text from George. He wrote, "Something came up at work. I won't be home tonight. Our son is with me."

When I remembered this, I suddenly lost the will to ask for an explanation. I didn't want them anymore. I did not want either George nor the son I had risked my life to bring into the world.

I stood up, dumped the carefully prepared dishes into the trash, flipped the family portrait face down, and headed upstairs.

Over the years, the father and son had given me plenty of gifts, especially Dan. He expressed their love in simple, earnest ways.