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