They said I died that night. The newspapers printed my name. My husband signed the papers. But the truth is— I was always dead. Dead the day he married me without love. Dead the day he chose another woman’s words over my silence. Dead the day he watched me disappear and felt nothing. He moved on. I survived. Years later, I return with a new name, a stronger spine, and two reasons to never look back. I don’t want his love. I don’t want his regret. And forgiveness was never an option. This is not a love story. It’s the story of a woman who died. “This is going to hurt… but you’re going to read it anyway.”