The Surgeon's Wife: A Postmortem Love

e man in blue scrubs, my husband Dr. Ethan Cole, picks up a scalpel. He's a surgeon, brilliant they say, but

He remarks, "This is a mess. The killer was thorough. Almost... personal." His voice sends shiver

ter, his phone rings, and his voice softens for Olivia Hayes, inviting her to her bir

sk shatters, replaced by a choked, guttural sound of shock, horro

ifference. Olivia arrives, radiant in red, bringing him soup. As she turns, her elbow bumps a tray of instrumen

the hammer. Now I watch her ladle soup for Ethan, realizing my death freed him, made him hers. And a foolis

l wife who ran off with "Ryan something." Just before Ethan rushes off, claiming a work emerge

: my phone, with its cracked screen and cat charm. I know exactly where Ethan is going now