The Aftershock

My husband, Mark, had this buddy from his Army days, Chris, who passed away. We’d always tried to look out for his widow, Sarah. But it wasn't until I found this locked diary at home that I realized Sarah wasn't just a friend to Mark—she was his teenage crush.

When the earthquake hit, he didn't hesitate to abandon me and rush to her side. While I was fighting for my life, the internet was busy glorifying their "unbreakable bond." For decades, I’d swallowed my pride for him, but in that moment, I was done.

1.

I’d called Mark forty-eight times, but no answer. When I finally came to, I was in a Red Cross tent. If it weren’t for the earthquake, I might have gone on forever thinking I still mattered to Mark.

Calmly, I grabbed my phone and texted him. I'd once had hope, but now I saw things clearly. I was going to file for divorce.

It took my husband getting that text to finally call me back. He answered with a hint of impatience in his voice.

“I told you to stay put and listen to the community volunteers! I’ll come home to check on you when I’m done here.”

I didn’t say anything.

He actually tried to explain, "You know Sarah has a bad heart, and she gets freaked out easily. With all the aftershocks, who knows what could happen? What if she had an attack and nobody was there? She could die! Come on, Jen, you wouldn’t be that heartless, right?"

I said flatly, “Right. So, whenever you have time, let’s get the divorce paperwork done.”

And I hung up.

I stepped out of the tent, seeing orange-clad rescue workers and white-coated medical staff all over the place. Following directions, I got some supplies.

My phone vibrated non-stop. I pursed my lips and added Mark's number to the blocked list. He then flooded me with texts.

“Sarah and I, there’s nothing between us. You know Chris died saving me, he left her a widow, we gotta do what we can.”

“We've been married for years, don't make a big deal out of this. It’s embarrassing.”

“Just wait for me, I'll be back soon, okay?”

I didn't reply, but when the volunteers asked if I wanted to move to a safer zone, I refused.

As the sun went down, I still hadn't seen Mark. Instead, in the neighborhood group chat, someone had posted a screenshot of a trending Twitter post. The headline read: "Love Triumphs Over Tragedy, a Modern-Day Romance.”

The picture showed a middle-aged couple at the hospital. The man, his hair streaked with gray, was spoon-feeding the woman. He was smiling, his eyes full of tenderness.

It was Mark and Sarah.

The group chat was exploding with comments: "This is what true love looks like!" "Years of loving support, that's what we all want. I believe in love again!"

Love? Was this their love? What did that make me all these years? Some extra in their play?

Numbly, I rubbed my fingers and left the chat, deleting Mark's contact.

The next day, I went to get checked out at the hospital. I overheard some nurses, saying how sweet Mark was, doing everything for his wife. “Yeah, I wish I co...