The Wife Who Died For Me

The sterile hum of the hospital room was my last lullaby.

I was Alex Miller, a game developer, fading away after a hit-and-run crash.

My wife, Sarah, had spent three years turning my life into a living hell, her words sharper than any blade, all to push me away.

Divorce papers, a constant reminder of my failures, sat untouched on our counter.

I believed her staged betrayals and cruel jabs until the very end, telling the nurse to ensure Sarah knew I was finally gone, free from my burden.

But death offered no escape, only a spectral front-row seat to my own funeral.