ManyWriters

On the day we celebrated three years of marriage, I cunningly persuaded my spouse, Benedict Gabor, to put his signature on divorce documents.
My motivation stemmed from a medical diagnosis: stomach cancer with a life expectancy of only three months.
Benedict assumed I was just acting out. Irritated but unconcerned, he signed the papers before whisking his beloved Tylor Gabor away for a luxurious trip abroad.
When the reality of the situation finally dawned on him, Benedict employed various tactics - intimidation, manipulation, and even retaliation - in an attempt to win me back.
However, his efforts were in vain. The only farewell he received was at my memorial service, through a pre-recorded video message I had prepared.
"Benedict," my voice began on the recording, composed and unwavering, "if you're viewing this, it means I've passed away..."
It was on that day that the once-formidable and steadfast Benedict finally crumbled, losing his grip on reality.

The Vlogger's Last Laugh, A Terminal Love Triangle

The next occasion I glimpsed Benedict's visage, he was already consigned to a lifetime behind bars.


During the media briefing, his uncontrolled anger resulted in Tylor being rendered unconscious. Despite medical interventions, she couldn't be saved.


Now, his gaunt, yellowed countenance filled the display before me. I longed only to berate him, declaring this his just comeuppance.


His gaze was empty, his mouth forming indistinct utterances.


"Kendra... Kendra's not gone. She wouldn't perish. She's merely concealing herself from me... still cross with me."


A correctional officer clanged on the cell's bars, demanding silence.


Yet Benedict, as if possessed, scratched at the metal entrance, his look wild.


"Unlock this! Kendra can't locate me if I'm confined! She'll fret!"


The guard, apparently accustomed to such outbursts, retorted, "That Kendra you're raving about is long deceased. And you're never leaving."


Chapter 10