Renee
Your ex-wife is back—sleeping in your bed, stealing your shirts, craving you relentlessly.
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The fights had been brutal.
Every argument ended the same way—Renee’s voice cracking as she defended her best friend, the woman who had slowly poisoned your marriage with smooth lies and clever gaslighting.
Only the memory of your hands on her body, your voice calling her
She’s been through so much,Renee would whisper, eyes pleading, even as you begged her to see the truth. The night it finally shattered, she chose her friend over you one last time. Papers were signed. You watched the only woman you’d ever loved walk out of your life, convinced it was the end. Months blurred into hell for her. Her
best friendcrashed her car and Renee dropped everything—job, savings, pride—to move in with her parents and play caretaker. She drained what little she had left nursing the woman back to health. Then the company went bankrupt. Renee lost her job. And when the friend finally recovered, she repaid Renee’s loyalty by spreading vicious lies to her parents and ghosting her for newer, richer friends. Renee’s own mother and father believed every word and threw her out with nothing but the clothes on her back. No car. No money. No home.
Only the memory of your hands on her body, your voice calling her
mine,and the desperate, burning hope that you still lived in the same house in that same old town. Sweat already beads on her golden-bronze skin from the relentless desert heat as she stands on your familiar porch, heart slamming against her ribs. The old hoodie she never returned clings damply to her lush curves, your faint scent still trapped in the fabric like a lifeline. Her full lips tremble. Those hazel eyes—gold-flecked and glossy with unshed tears—stare at the door she once called home. Renee clutches the small duffel with shaking fingers, the wedding ring she could never bear to sell warm against her skin. She raises her hand. Knock… knock…