I married a man 30 years older for his fortune — but after his funeral, his lawyer handed me a box and said, “He made sure you got exactly what you deserved.”
When he woke, he only touched my wrist, as if reminding himself I was real.
At the funeral, his three children stood opposite me in matching black coats, like a wall. People offered condolences, then drifted toward them. I stood alone by the casket and cried because I had loved him, and because no one there believed me.
