The Day I Died

I didn’t expect to die today, but here I am.

Dead.

When I woke up this morning, I had every intention of celebrating my twenty-ninth birthday with my husband, Owen Wilde, who was also my business partner. It had been all day, and he hadn't wished me a happy birthday, so I expected something. Excitement and anticipation at what he could be planning made me smile. What could he have in store? I just knew this day would be different. He must have had something up his sleeve.

When he left early from our company without saying anything to me, I thought he was planning a surprise party for my birthday, so I followed him. I was so wrong. I pulled out of the parking garage at our skyscraper, behind my husband’s SUV and toward God only knew where.

“Where is he going? It’s the middle of the work day.” Confusion became my driving emotion as I tailed my husband. I also felt a little guilty for following him. Should I have let him go and waited to see how things played out instead? My curiosity won out. It’s always been a character flaw of mine.

Owen pulled straight into a hotel parking lot. Okay, I thought, he’s just having a meeting or something. Stranger things have happened.

But when I followed him inside, he didn’t head to a conference room. He checked in.

What is he doing? I wondered. Peering around a potted plant like a stereotypical private investigator, I waited until he entered the elevator before striding up to the desk, as if I hadn’t been hiding just a moment ago.

“Hello,” I said, trying not to seem suspicious. “I’m here to check in.”

“Name please,” the front desk attendant responded, not looking up from her computer. Her dirty-blonde hair was pulled into a neat bun, and her uniform looked freshly pressed.

“Mrs. Wilde.” That wasn’t my name. I kept my prestigious maiden name when I married. I’m Fay Lush, daughter of the wealthiest family in the city and heiress to the family fortune. But if Owen checked in here, he wasn’t smart enough to use an alias, assuming he was up to no good. I was still hopeful that it was just a business meeting because I couldn’t imagine it could be anything else. Please, don’t let it be anything else, I thought, holding my breath.

“Yes, yes. Room 211. Here’s your key card.” The young attendant handed it to me and went back to her computer.

Thanking her, I entered the elevator and went up to the second floor. This being a cheap hotel, the walls were paper thin, and I could hear girlish giggles coming from down the hall, followed by some feminine moans. When I got to room 211, it was obvious they were coming from inside.

I paused, unsure how to proceed. I must have had the wrong room. Did she really say 211? I was surely going to interrupt something if I walked in here.

But then I heard a distinctive male moan, one I’d heard many times before. It was Owen! Rage filled me, along with horror and shock, and I brought my fist to my mouth to stop the gasp that flew to my lips. This couldn’t be possible. Next was the hurt and anguish, then more rage. The sounds of a headboard hitting the wall filled the air, then there was more moaning.

I had to know. So, taking the key card in hand, I entered the hotel room.

Much to my dismay, although I don’t know how I could have been so fooled, it was Owen and a beautiful, young blonde, deep in the throes of passion! A tiny squeak escaped me as I saw them. Owen’s face was filled with ecstasy as he pounded her into the bed, which only filled me with disgust and fury. They didn’t even notice me as I came in. They were too deep in the thrall of their cheating to notice anything but each other.

I clenched my fists, the desire to either scream or flee overriding any other desire. I didn’t want to see this. I couldn’t be here. I’d go home, pack my things, and leave them to each other.

The woman was five to ten years younger than me, somewhat thinner, and she could have been a model. But I’d seen enough. Just as I turned to leave, the blonde opened her eyes and looked at me, her face twisting.

“Were you expecting someone, love?” she asked my husband, as if they knew each other better than a one-night stand. “Who is that?”

Owen paused, glancing over his shoulder. His eyes widened when he saw me, and he stood, giving me a full view of both of them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked, my voice cold and hard as steel. A sudden burst of courage made me speak, though I wanted nothing more than to flee this awful situation.

“Only taking what you can’t give me. You shouldn’t have come here.” His eyes were emotionless, lacking any remorse.

It had been so long without any affection from him that I should have seen this coming. I didn’t know why I thought he would be planning anything for me. He never had.

“How long has this been going on?” My voice was shaking.

“It doesn’t matter. If you put out more, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Or if you worked out more or dressed better. Regardless, I think we should consider divorce,” he said.

“It’s my birthday. You are cheating on me, and you're the one asking for a divorce?” I couldn’t believe what I just heard.

“So what? It’s not like we love each other or anything,” he continued. “This was an arranged marriage.”

That wasn’t entirely true. I was in love with him. At least until today. Even though my parents arranged our marriage to better help the company, it had been real for me. I had dreams of children and a life together. But those dreams were now like ash in my mouth.

The beautiful blonde looked from me to Owen and back again. Her hair was even mussed like the just-banged look of some magazine models. She didn’t look sorry either, only pitying.

Seeing I would have no resolution here, only pain, I stomped out of the room, seething. I didn’t even close the door behind me.

How dare they?! How dare my husband do this to me? After everything we shared, everything we promised to each other? “For better or worse,” we’d said. The vows we made on our wedding day were meaningless now. It’s obvious how much he meant them.

As I made it to the elevator, I saw an email I’d been CC’d on, congratulating my half-brother, Max, for being promoted to vice president of my family’s company. As if this day couldn’t get any worse. That position was supposed to go to me.

My eyes brimmed with tears of anguish and fury as I stormed out of the hotel, not watching where I was going. I made to cross the street, looking for where I parked my Mercedes, but I didn’t even see the other car coming.

All I saw was a blur of motion, and then I was on the ground. Pain ricocheted through me like ping pong balls. I couldn’t tell where it hurt, only that it was the worst pain I’d ever felt. I could hardly breathe. The asphalt beneath me was the most solid thing in my life right then, and its warmth heated my cold body. It couldn’t warm my cold heart, though, no matter how I wished it could.

Shouts rang out around me, but they seemed so far away. Nothing seemed to matter. Car horns blasted, and people came into view, but my vision was fading. I was choking, but what was I choking on? Something wet spilled from my lips and the side of my head before my vision began to dim. Cursing Owen in my head, I closed my eyes. And that was how I died.

I opened my eyes to find myself sitting at the kitchen bar, the cake I bought myself for my birthday sitting on it, unopened.

Had I fallen asleep? Was Owen’s cheating just a dream? More like a nightmare. I shook my head. No. My husband wouldn’t do that to me.

Stretching, I peeked in the cake box to find it undisturbed. Yep. That must have been a dream. An odd one at that. The clock on the wall read seven in the morning, and the light coming in through the window was undiluted by clouds. Checking my phone, it still said that today was my 29th birthday. I sighed in relief that the nightmare was over, closing my eyes again as I tried to erase the vivid images of Owen and the blonde from my mind.

Suddenly, I heard a car horn outside. I rose from my place on the barstool and rushed out to see what was going on. Placing a hand up to block the sunlight, I squinted my eyes. Was that Owen?

It was! He was sitting in his SUV, but he wasn’t alone. The same blonde woman from what I thought was my nightmare sat in the passenger seat. His hands roamed all over her, his tongue shoving into her mouth.

“I don’t believe it,” I whispered. This couldn’t be real. I had to still be dreaming. Right? I just couldn’t believe Owen was really cheating on me.

Had I truly died and been returned to life? And if so, why was I here? Just to bear witness to the terrible events in a different light? This was the kind of stuff that happened in books, not things that happened in real life.

The blonde tramp pulled my cheating husband closer, gripping his thighs and moving her hands to more sensitive areas, which I could see from here were responsive. She began to unzip his jeans, sticking her small hand inside. Her elbow hit the car horn again, and I knew I’d seen enough.

Stomping up to Owen’s car, I banged on the window. He had the audacity to look surprised, which only made me more furious. I could barely breathe from how angry I was, and my nails dug into my palms from how hard I clenched my fists.

“Is this what you do now?” I yelled as he opened the car door. “You find ways to cheat on me? I know it’s not because I’m not good enough. You owe all you have to me and my family’s money.” He stepped out of the car.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he said. “Your family adores me, maybe even more than they do you. They chose me for you because of what I add to their business. If anything, you’re the one who’s useless.”

“Excuse me?” I scoffed, poking my finger in his chest while the blonde tramp watched from the car, eyes wide.

“You heard me.”

I pushed him, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he shoved me, and I fell backward, hitting my head on the iron handrail of the neighbor’s steps, which led up to his house.

The pain erupted from me in waves, and I felt the trickle of blood flowing down the back of my neck and soaking my shirt. Blacking out, my last thought was, “Great. Here we go again.”

I opened my eyes to the same birthday cake on the kitchen bar. I was back in the house, uninjured, but I was pissed. Was fate trying to show me Owen’s true colors? Was she giving me hints? All I knew was that Owen was a cheater, and I was mad as hell.

Above me, I heard a feminine moan and some male grunting.

“Not again,” I seethed, the sound of our bed creaking above us. Our bed! He was screwing someone in our bed! Various curses and choice words flitted through my head.

The woman moaned again, louder, until it turned into a scream of ecstasy. “Yes!” she cried, and Owen moaned, too.

I walked up the stairs, my heart shattering all over again. I knew at that moment that I couldn’t live like this. Tears flowed freely down my cheeks as I realized how much of my life I wasted with him, and that despite how devoted I had been to him, he was only devoted to what lay in his pants.

They were so engrossed in passion that they didn’t hear me come in. Typical. I opened the door to find Owen and an entirely different woman … in our bed. Had he done this often? I knew I was the only one who changed the sheets. Disgust and horror filled me anew at the thought of what we’d been sleeping on.

A coldness came over me, my heart and mind numbing as I stared at them. They didn’t see me yet. He had her bent over in the center of the mattress, so both their backs were to me. I used to find his broad back attractive, but now I will forever remember him in this way: with betrayal.

The brunette was as gorgeous as the blonde but maybe not as young. She was curvy and short, but her breasts were huge, almost plastic surgery huge. I could see that much, though I couldn’t make out her face.

“This is extremely disappointing,” I finally said, unable to keep silent and no longer caring about him. My heart was too far gone. Our love was as fake as the Van Gogh knockoff hanging on the wall.

Owen paused in his disgusting humping, looking over his shoulder. Again, he looked surprised, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. The woman, on the other hand, looked smug, like she was pleased I caught them.

This wasn’t how I wanted to live my life. I was going to leave him, and I would work things out with our business, so I could keep our assets.

“It’s over, Owen,” I said. “We’re done. I’ll have my lawyer send the divorce paperwork in the mail.”

I turned to leave, placing my foot on the stairs, when Owen appeared behind me. He whispered in my ear, “You can’t leave me. I own you.” Then he grabbed my arm to tug me to him, and I yanked back.

My heart jolted because, instead of just removing myself from his grip, I overcorrected. Losing my balance, I tumbled down the stairs, thump by thump. Horror made it feel like I fell in slow motion, but instead of being worried, Owen’s face looked pleasantly surprised to see me falling. He stepped back and watched, and I heard a crack an instant before I died. Or died again.

I woke up again in front of the same birthday cake. I checked my phone, and yep, it was the same day: my twenty-ninth birthday. A text from Owen said he’d be working late. Yeah, probably banging his secretary at this rate. I’d had enough, so I called him and left a voicemail, saying I wanted a divorce.

“Screw it,” I said, opening the cake. I dug in the silverware drawer for a fork, then I took a bite. Something tasted sour about it, but I was going to enjoy this cake! Then I was going to leave Owen.

I took another bite, but I started to feel weak. Then my throat closed up. I looked down at the cake, eyes widening. Had Owen poisoned it? Breathing became too difficult, and panic gripped me. I clutched my throat, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t take in any air. My vision faded to black. Once again, I died.

This time, when I woke, I was at a party. A cake sat in front of me, candles with the numbers 2 and 7 lit. People surrounded me, friends, family, and even business colleagues.

“Aren’t you going to blow out your candles?” Owen asked next to me, concern written on his face.

Alarmed, I glanced around, unsure where I was or what was happening. The decorations were red and black, my two favorite colors. Colors of power. I recognized this place. It was the same room, the same decorations, and the same people. This was my twenty-seventh birthday party.

Had I broken the cycle? Was this my second chance? I became filled with determination to overcome. You’ve heard of cruel fate? Perhaps fate wasn’t as cruel as I first thought. This time, I would do things right. This time, I would leave Owen before he could destroy me.

A small smile curved my lips upward as I closed my eyes and blew the candles out.