This is a revenge story I wrote for my Creative Writing Submissions ~

Dear Richard,

Letters are a way of letting go, I’ve heard. I thought punishing you for your sins would have brought me the peace of mind that you so cruelly took away from me, but how wrong I was! After everything that happened, I still cannot have that dreamless, peaceful sleep that I desire. You haunt me in my dreams, just as you did in my waking existence, once upon a time. I want to let go of you and all the negative feelings and thoughts I have for you, and move on in my life. Just like you moved on, so blithely, like a whiff of cold air that came dancing in through the window of my life, and left me cold and shivering.

I thought we were happy together, Richard. We had everything we wished for in life. So then what was it that left you dissatisfied? Or were you just not happy, and it was me, all the while, projecting my happiness on you and making myself believe that you too were encased in that pink glowing bubble of complacency and satiety? Was my happiness so palpable that it intimidated you, repulsed you? Or was I just a plain old bore when it came to being your wife? But then what’s the use of asking these questions now, when it is too late to expect any answers?

Well anyway, your actions spoke more than your words. They answered my questions more explicitly than your flowery prose would ever have. You thought I had no idea, that you were being so crafty about it, hiding it from both me and her and thinking our ignorance would cause you no guilt. You thought I was so content in the perfect little world that you had built around me that I would never notice your absence, not your physical absence that you took such pains to justify, but your emotional absence; you just didn’t look at me anymore, Richard!

I could have forgiven you for that, you know. Forgiven you for your little crush, had you just been honest with me. I had enough love for you, enough space in my heart to accept all your infidelities. But you thought I was too weak… or maybe you were too weak yourself! You believed you could get away with it, except that I didn’t let you. I didn’t let you get away from me, did I, Richard? I loved you more deeply and passionately that you ever gave me credit for.

I feel sorry for that poor girl. She never knew about my existence, thanks to you, and because of that I can empathise with her feelings of loss and betrayal. She does not deserve this miserable fate, a fate which you all-too-knowingly thrust upon her. I wish I can go talk to her, maybe make amends from my side and bring her out of misery and perhaps myself too, but I think she hates me too much. And I’m too cowardly to face her.

I just want to say, there’s no point in saying sorry for what I did to you or you to me. My retribution did not work, but there’s no chance of atonement now, is there?  Although I cannot help wishing that things could have been different. That we could have faced each other with courage, not with cowardice. Then there would have been no silences, no secret tears at night, no poisons stirred into teacups and no cold feet.

Goodbye, Richard.

Your faithful wife,


And thus she proceeded to deposit the letter, along with her customary white lilies, upon his grave.

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