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When her husband returned from the war, he brought nothing but a divorce decree.
Determined not to sink any lower, Rive chose dignity over desperation.
She signed the papers, left them behind and quietly disappeared.
But—
“Don’t go… please.”
A drunken plea. A voice that clung to her like chains.
For one final night, she stayed.
“Heather.”
The name he whispered in the haze of pleasure — another woman’s name — was enough to sever every last thread tying her to him.
‘This time, the one being abandoned won’t be me. It will be you, Andrew.’
—
“Your wife has passed away.”
The woman who vanished, leaving only divorce papers, was declared dead.
At first, there was nothing but rage at her disappearance.
But as time passed, that fury faded, replaced by something far more dangerous.
Regret.
Obsession.
By the time he realized it, he was already destroying himself.
And then—
The wife who was supposed to be dead appeared before him, holding the hand of his child.
And once again, she tried to run away.
“Let’s get a divorce.”
“Running away again?”
“…”
“You won’t have anywhere left to hide this time.”
This time, he would not let her go.
“Go ahead. Try to run.”
His voice was quiet yet unyielding.
“No matter where you go, I will find you.”
