Richard pov.
Weeks passed, and it was the same thing every time Susan and I went out.
People always found a way to bring up Sarah, to compare them. It was grating on my nerves.
Why did they have to pick on Susan? It wasn't her fault that I didn’t love Sarah. If anything, Sarah was the other woman. Susan was the one I'd loved from the start.
I stood outside our bedroom door, listening to her muffled cries. We had just come back from another event, and it had happened again.
Someone had called her ‘the other woman.’ My hands balled into fists. Why couldn't they just let it go?
Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open. Susan was on the bed, face buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking.
I walked over and sat beside her, reaching out to touch her back.
“Susan,” I said softly.
