“Oh babe, I’m so overwhelmed with work right now!” she texted back. “Sending you so much light! Let’s get drinks when things settle down!”

Not when he lost his hair.
Not when the ambulance had to come.
Not when the doctor told me he had two weeks left.

She ignored my calls. She ignored my texts. But I saw her Instagram stories. Bottomless mimosas. Boat parties. Weekend trips to Miami.

She abandoned me when I was actively drowning. She couldn’t handle a situation where she wasn’t the center of attention. Sickness isn’t glamorous. Dying isn’t fun. So she just erased us from her life.

But now? Now that David was dead? Now that there was a church full of hundreds of people?

Now there was an audience.

She marched down the center aisle of the church in a bright red dress, crying louder than David’s own mother, making sure every single person looked at her. She wanted to be the tragic best friend. The devastated secondary widow.

She pulled back from the hug, keeping her hands on my shoulders, looking deeply into my exhausted, sleep-deprived eyes.

“I’m so sorry, babe,” she whispered in my ear. “I just miss him so much. We had such a special connection.”

The numbness evaporated. A sudden, terrifyingly calm rage flooded my veins.

“I know why you didn’t visit,” I whispered back.

She froze. Her hands stiffened on my shoulders.

“What?” she breathed. The performance dropped for half a second.

“He showed me the texts, Chloe,” I whispered. I kept my voice quiet. Respectful of the church. But sharp enough to cut through bone.

Her eyes widened. The fake tears completely vanished.

“The texts?” she stammered.

“The ones you sent him the week he got diagnosed,” I said, my voice completely dead. “Before the chemo started.”

I had found the spiral notebook three days after David died. I was looking through it, crying, tracing my fingers over my frantic handwriting. And I found a page folded over in the back. David had written a note for me.

*If Chloe comes to the funeral, do not let her speak. Read the screenshots on my phone in the hidden folder. I love you.*

I charged his phone. I found the folder.