As though he needed to reassure himself that I was still beside him.
Or perhaps he was reassuring me.
Russell died the next morning.
Part 6 — The Woman Everyone Thought I Was
At the funeral, Russell’s children stood together in black.
I stood across from them.
People offered condolences.
Some hugged me.
But most drifted naturally toward Russell’s children afterward.
His real family.
That was what the room seemed to be saying.
I was the young second wife.
The waitress.
The woman who had married a wealthy man thirty years older.
I could almost hear the thoughts people were too polite to speak.
I stood beside Russell’s casket after the service and touched the polished wood.
“I loved you,” I whispered.
It sounded pathetic.
Too late.
Too small.
But it was the truth.
And somehow, being doubted made the grief worse.
Not because I needed everyone to approve of me.
