The Phoenix Wife

Weeks after my C-section, exhausted and clinging to my newborn, Lily, my husband Jake burst through the door, reeking of cheap perfume and stale beer.

Trailing behind him was Tiffany “Tiff” Evans, openly pregnant, a smirk on her face.

“Tiff’s pregnant,” he announced, not even looking at me or our baby. “I want a divorce. Now. And she’s moving in today.”

My world spun. Not again.

A terrifying vision, sharp as shattered glass, of a past life: the exact same words, the exact same betrayal, ending with Lily’s tragic death and my parents consumed by flames, all set by Jake.