The Wedding
Our wedding was small, held in the community room of the building.
Neighbors brought food. Mrs. Patterson from 3C made her famous lasagna. Mr. Rodriguez played guitar. Even Jake—usually guarded and sharp-tongued—wore a tie. Derek put his phone away and actually listened.
Mallerie looked radiant in a simple cream dress.
When she said her vows, her voice trembled just enough to sound real.
“Carl,” she said, “you gave me stability when I had none. You gave me love when I thought it was gone forever. You’ve been my anchor.”
I believed every word.
That night, lying in bed beside her, listening to her breathe, I thought Sarah would have been proud of me for choosing happiness again.
I was wrong.
The Morning After
I woke to the sound of coffee brewing.
For a moment, everything felt right.
Then I walked into the kitchen.
Mallerie was already dressed, her hair pulled into a tight ponytail I’d never seen before. Jake and Derek sat at the table, silent, serious.
“Good morning, wife,” I said lightly.
She didn’t smile.
“Sit down, Carl.”
Something in her voice made my stomach tighten.
I sat.
She placed a chipped mug in front of me—not one of the matching ones Sarah and I had bought years ago.
“Jake,” she said calmly, “go get his things.”
I laughed, sure this was some awkward joke.
But Jake stood up and walked toward the bedroom.
Derek stepped in front of me when I tried to follow.
“You need to leave,” Mallerie said, as if discussing groceries.
“Leave?” I asked. “This is my home.”
She finally looked at me then—and the warmth was gone.
“Not anymore,” she said. “We’re married now. And that changes things.”
Jake returned with my suitcase. My clothes were shoved inside carelessly.
“You’re just the building manager,” she continued. “You can find another unit. Something smaller. My sons need stability.”
I felt like I was watching someone else’s life collapse.
“Love is a luxury,” she said. “Security is not.”
And just like that, I was sent downstairs to a spare basement studio.
Continued on next page:
