Chapter 3: Love’s Cold Shadow

After we married, Derek kept his distance—always solemn, always restrained. What I got from Derek was a heart cold as river stone. I’d find him buried in law books in the study, as if I were just a shadow passing by.

But if the mountain wouldn’t come to me, I’d go to the mountain. I kept at it, and soon enough, we were the model couple. When I played piano, he’d join me on guitar; when I played chess, he’d let me undo my moves again and again. Music filled the house, echoing through old halls, and sometimes, just sometimes, it felt almost like love.

Derek never looked at another woman, never flirted with the staff. Everyone envied me. They said I’d married the best man in the world, devoted only to his wife. I just gave them that practiced Southern smile—the one that says bless your heart and mind your business. I knew better: in the South, folks show you the front porch, not the rooms where they keep their secrets.

Looking back, not only did I marry Derek and raise two outstanding children, I was honored at City Hall, my picture running in the Savannah Morning News, my smile bright under the magnolia trees.

Life seemed already complete.

Until the moment before my death.

I looked into Derek’s eyes—steady as ever. Compelled by some desperate hope, I asked, “Derek, have you ever, even for a moment, truly loved me?”

Derek was silent.

I just smiled and closed my eyes.

In my dying moments, I drifted back to our wedding night.

Derek didn’t come for a long time. I lifted my own bridal veil and walked all the way to the study, where I found him dead drunk—sprawled over the desk, brows furrowed, cheeks flushed, eyelashes trembling. The silence pressed down on the room like a humid summer night.

On the desk sat a freshly painted canvas: a woman dozing beneath blooming dogwood trees in spring. The paint was still wet. Even though she was turned away, I recognized her instantly—Natalie, the Lieutenant Governor’s daughter, the future First Lady.

Moonlight spilled through the window, lighting up every longing brushstroke. The smell of oil paint mingled with bourbon, and my heart sank like a stone in the river.

I swallowed my emotions and quietly left. Practiced my best Southern smile in the hallway mirror and never let a crack show.

Back then, I was young and stubborn, never turning back until I hit a wall.

If there were another life, I’d live differently. No more infatuation, no more chasing the unattainable. No more breaking myself to please Derek. I’d let myself be happy, even if it meant being alone.

Derek and I—

In the next life, we should never meet again. From now on, let distance and time keep us apart.