How Does Three More Words End?

My mom is critically ill. Before she passes away, she wants to see me married. It takes 27 days of pleading before my boyfriend, Kyle Grayson, says yes. I wait at the city hall until the doors close, but he never shows up. That same day, his childhood sweetheart, Ruby Callahan, posts their marriage certificate online. "Time flies. Three days more and we'll be a month in." Only then does it hit me. The very first day I begged, Kyle was already Ruby's husband. Right then, a text from Kyle lights up my phone. "Holly, Ruby's family was pushing her into marriage. I couldn't stand by and watch her marry just anyone and ruin her life. We'll be divorced in three days. I'll marry you then." Three days later, he shows up at the city hall in a suit. But all he gets is a text from me. "Goodbye for good, Kyle."

I was the world’s last mermaid. At birth, I was granted three wishes by God. I used the first when my boyfriend, Alex Zane, was dying. I offered up the child in my womb and my fertility in exchange for him to live a long and healthy life, untouched by illness or disaster. I used the second when the Zane family was going bankrupt. I offered up all my power and wished for their fortune to be restored and for their future to be secured. When he came to me for the final wish, his childhood sweetheart, Valentina Wilson, was dying in childbirth. After I turned him down, he threw me into a men’s prison. “A dollar a turn. Do whatever you want with her. She can’t get pregnant anyway.” That night, I wept until my voice broke. At dawn, when the light finally crept in, I offered up my life to activate the sacred token and made my final wish. “I wish for all who betrayed me to watch their world burn. Let them lose everything and die a painful, miserable death!”

After I find out that Harvey Lupton has cheated on me, I give him three chances. The first chance is used up when I dig out the love letter that the 18-year-old Harvey had given me with trembling hands in the past. The current Harvey accepts the love letter with an apologetic and guilty look. Then, he deletes Rebecca Sherman's number right in front of me. The second chance is used up when I produce the wedding video of the successful and confident Harvey coming over to pick me up on our wedding day from my phone. Harvey watches the video for a very long time. After that, he tells the security guards to kick Rebecca, who's here to borrow money from him, out. But that night, he drowns his sorrows with alcohol. The third chance is used up… today. I hand my pregnancy report over to Harvey outside Rebecca's ward. There, he lights a cigarette. I choke on the smoke and begin coughing non-stop. Yet, Harvey's gaze never leaves Rebecca, who's inside the ward. The answer is extremely obvious at this point. At that moment, I know that there's no such thing as a future for me and Harvey anymore.

Three years into my fake death, my wife and daughter showed up at my door. To get rid of them, I grabbed a knife and threatened to end my life. Then my seven-year-old daughter put her hand on my father's ventilator. Claire Harrison stood beside her, her voice trembling as she delivered her ultimatum. "Wesley, either you see your father suffocate to death, or you come back and be my husband again. Your choice." I was shaking with rage, but I put down the knife and remarried her. Walking back into that familiar villa, I became the Harrison family's model "devoted husband and father." When my foster brother needed her company because he was feeling down, I cleared out and booked myself a hotel. I ended up with a perforated ulcer, went into surgery, and never once called her. When my daughter got picky and said she only wanted her uncle's cooking, I went straight to Dylan's place and brought him back to live with us. Even on my birthday, when Dylan suddenly started crying and said, "I'm so jealous of you, Wesley. You've got such a wonderful wife and kid. Me? I've never even gotten a decent birthday present," I didn't hesitate—I slid the onyx bead bracelet off my wrist and pressed it into his hand. The deep black beads gleamed against his pale skin. But Claire's eyes went red. She grabbed my wrist, her voice sharp as a blade. "Wesley, that was the love token I prayed for you—step by step on my knees—all the way across the Mojave."

My husband doesn't love me or our daughter. It's been six years since she was born, but he's never held her. The doctors say he has an emotional disorder, and that he doesn't know how to express the way he feels. But when his true love returns, he smiles at us for the first time. He even brings our daughter a gift. I think it's because he's finally seen sense… until she and I see the photo he uses as his phone's wallpaper. In it, his eyes are crinkled as he smiles. He has one arm around a little girl whose front tooth is missing, and he holds his true love's hand with the other. My daughter tugs on my hand, and her eyes redden. "Mommy, do you think we should leave? Should we give Daddy three final chances? Let's leave him if he still doesn't want us after that."

He died two years ago. Tonight his perfect replica whispered the safe word only the real him knew. Now she must decide: keep the lie alive… or lose him forever.