Chapter 7: The Wife Before Me
I read the message three times before my brain allowed me to understand it.
“She was your husband’s first wife.””
Dr. Ellis’s voice echoed through the phone.
My fingers loosened around it.
For a moment, I couldn’t feel my hands.
Damon’s first wife.
Not an ex-girlfriend.
Not a stranger.
A wife.
A person who had stood beside him before me.
A person whose existence he had never mentioned.
I looked across the room at Damon.
He was watching my face.
And the second he saw my expression, he knew.
“What did she tell you?””
I slowly lowered the phone.
“Who is Rachel?””
His entire body went still.
That was the answer.
Not his words.
Not his explanation.
His reaction.
“You know her.””
Damon sat down.
“Camille…”
“Who is Rachel?””
He rubbed his forehead.
“I didn’t want you involved in this.””
I laughed quietly.
A painful sound.
“Damon, I am already involved.””
I held up the medical records.
“My name is on the paperwork. My body is the one affected. My marriage is the one falling apart.””
His eyes filled.
“I should have told you.””
“Yes.””
“You’re right.””
I hated how easily he admitted it now.
After years of silence.
After I had already found everything myself.
“Tell me about her.””
Damon looked away.
“Rachel and I were married when I was twenty-six.””
“How long?””
“Two years.””
“And you never thought to mention her?””
He swallowed.
“It was a difficult part of my life.””
I stared at him.
“Everyone has difficult parts of their life.””
My voice hardened.
“But most people don’t erase entire marriages when they start a new one.””
He looked ashamed.
“She died.””
The anger inside me paused.
Not disappeared.
Paused.
“Died?””
He nodded.
“Four years before I met you.””
The room became quiet.
I sat down across from him.
“How?””
His eyes dropped.
“An illness.””
“What illness?””
He hesitated.
Again.
Always hesitation.
“Cancer.””
I looked away.
For a moment, I felt guilty for my anger.
Then I remembered.
A secret was still a secret.
Pain did not erase responsibility.
“Why did Rachel contact you before your diagnosis?””
Damon took a deep breath.
“She was the one who told me she had tested positive.””
My eyebrows pulled together.
“But she was your wife.””
“Yes.””
“And she was already sick?””
“No.””
His answer came quickly.
“No. That’s the problem.””
I frowned.
“What do you mean?””
Damon stood and walked toward the window.
“Rachel and I separated before she passed away.””
“You said you were married for two years.””
“We were legally married. But the last months were complicated.””
I waited.
He continued.
“We weren’t living together.””
“Why?””
His jaw tightened.
“Because I cheated.””
The confession came quietly.
But it still hurt.
Another betrayal.
Another pattern.
“You cheated on her too.””
He nodded.
“Yes.””
I looked at him.
“Do you understand why this is hard for me to hear?””
“Yes.””
“Because I keep discovering that the man I married has a history of hurting women and hiding it.””
His eyes closed.
“I know.””
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to leave.
But I also needed answers.
“What happened with Rachel?””
Damon sat back down.
“She found out about my affair. We separated. Then months later, she called me.””
“Why?””
“She said she had something important to tell me.””
“What?””
“That she had been diagnosed.””
My stomach tightened.
“And you blamed her.””
He looked away.
“I thought she gave it to me.””
“But you didn’t know.””
“No.””
I picked up the records again.
“And then she contacted the clinic?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
Damon’s expression changed.
“She wanted me tested.””
I stared.
“Even after you cheated?””
“Yes.””
That surprised me.
“She still cared about you?””
He was quiet.
“I think she cared enough not to let me hurt someone else.””
The words stayed with me.
Because Rachel, a woman I had never met, had done what Damon had not.
She had tried to protect people from pain.
“Why didn’t you tell me about her?””
His answer was barely a whisper.
“Because I was ashamed.””
I looked at him.
“You keep hiding behind shame.””
“I know.””
“No.””
I shook my head.
“You don’t.””
He looked at me.
“Shame explains feeling bad.””
I pointed at the records.
“It does not explain letting another person walk into the same situation.””
His face broke.
And for the first time, I saw something beyond guilt.
I saw grief.
Real grief.
“Rachel died thinking I hated her.””
I stopped.
“What?””
Damon’s voice cracked.
“The last conversation we had was ugly.””
He stared at the floor.
“She told me I needed to tell the truth to whoever came next.””
My chest tightened.
“Whoever came next?””
He nodded.
“She knew I was afraid of being alone.””
A tear slipped down his face.
“She told me that loneliness was better than destroying someone else’s life.””
I looked away.
Because somehow the woman I had never met had become the person I trusted most in this story.
A woman whose voice I would never hear.
A woman who had tried to protect me without even knowing me.
My phone buzzed.
A message.
From an unknown number.
I opened it.
A photo appeared.
Rachel.
A picture of her standing beside Damon.
But it wasn’t old.
The date was recent.
My heart stopped.
Because Rachel was supposed to be dead.
Under the photo was one sentence:
“Ask Damon why his dead wife contacted me last month.””
I looked up.
Damon saw my face.
“What?””
I turned the phone toward him.
His expression changed instantly.
May you like
And he whispered:
“That’s impossible.””