I Was His Backup Plan, Not Anymore

Synopsis

Charles Sterling's first love, Isabelle Sutton, was dead. She died on the third day after flying back to win him over. A car accident on the interstate. Pronounced dead at the scene. The news reached me while I was standing barefoot in the kitchen, stirring a pot of chicken soup the way he likes it, with fresh herbs and just enough lemon to cut through the richness. He hadn't been home in three days, and I knew exactly where he was. Isabelle was back, trailing the scent of expensive perfume and the quiet confidence of a woman who knew she could take whatever she wanted. I said nothing. Three years of marriage had taught me the art of saying nothing. The call came from Charles's assistant. His voice was hushed, reverent, like he was already practicing for the funeral. "Mrs. Sterling, Mr. Sterling is at the hospital. Ms. Sutton didn't make it." I turned off the burner. The soup kept bubbling softly in the oven, the scent of simmering thyme and rosemary still hanging warm in the air. I watched the surface for a long moment, the way little pockets of steam rose and burst, one after another, as if nothing in the world had changed at all. "Mrs. Sterling? A-are you alright?" "I'm fine." And I was. I was better than fine. I was free. I set the phone down on the counter and walked to the powder room. The woman in the mirror was twenty-eight years old, with soft eyes and a complexion so pale it nearly blended into the white subway tile behind her. Her lips held no color, as if she'd forgotten to put herself back together that morning. She looked like a watercolor left out in the sun too long, faded and barely there, hanging on a wall that no one ever bothered to notice.