The Fabricated Wife: The Perfect Victim

Sorelle stands in the doorway of Mireya’s room, her fingers curled tightly around the edge of the frame as if letting go will seal her fate forever. The bed lies empty now, the sheets stripped away, and only the faint whiff of medicine still lingers in the air. It shouldn’t feel like this. After two years of caring for someone, of waking up in the dead of night to a cough or a weak call of her name... there should be something left behind. Some trace of her presence. But the room already looks like Mireya was never there at all. Sorelle swallows hard. “Mrs.Vance,” a maid says softly from behind her. Sorelle doesn’t turn right away; her eyes stay fixed on the empty bed. “They’re ready for you downstairs.” Sorelle nods, though the maid can’t see her face. She finally lets go of the doorframe and steps inside, just for a second. Just enough to reach the small table beside the bed. Her fingers graze against the empty glass of water she used to refill every few hours. She exhales, a shaky breath slipping out of her lips. “I tried,” she murmurs under her breath. “I really did.” No response. There’s never an answer anymore. By the time she arrives at the funeral hall, it's already filled with people dressed in black murmuring, and eyes that drift toward her before darting away. Sorelle adjusts her dress unconsciously, smoothing down fabric that doesn’t need fixing. Her heels click softly against the polished floor as she walks in, each step careful. At the front of the room, the coffin rests beneath a delicate arrangement of white flowers, too pristine and too perfect. Mireya looks peaceful in the framed photo beside it... healthier than she ever looked in the last months. Sorelle’s chest tightens. That’s not how she remembers her. She remembers her weak hands gripping hers, the sound of labored breathing, and those long nights where sleep never came. Not this serene, untouched version. “…Sorelle.” She turns at the sound of her name. Kael stands a few steps behind her, dressed in black, perfect as always. He came. Of course he would come, it’s his mother. She takes a small step toward him. “You’re here,” she says softly. The words feel stupid the moment they leave her mouth. Where else would he be? Kael nods once. “Of course.” Sorelle searches his face, looking for grief, anger or pain. Anything, but his expression doesn’t change. “…Are you okay?” she asks quietly. “I’m fine,” he replies. Sorelle’s fingers tighten slightly at her sides. “Kael, I...” she starts, then stops, unsure how to continue. “I stayed with her last night and she was asking for you.” It’s not entirely true. Mireya hadn’t been able to speak clearly toward the end, but she had kept looking at the door, over and over, like she was waiting. Kael doesn’t react. “I know,” he says simply. That’s it. Sorelle blinks. “…You know?” He nods, his gaze shifts past her already moving on, like the conversation is over, as if it doesn’t matter. A cold feeling slips into her chest. “Oh,” she whispers. She doesn’t know what she expected: maybe a question, maybe a thank you, maybe just… something. But Kael is already stepping away. “I need to speak with the lawyer,” he says, his tone unchanged. “Stay here.” Sorelle nods automatically. He doesn’t look back. The ceremony begins soon afterwards. People pay their tribute in soft, polished words that feel empty while others stand, sit and bow their heads in quiet respect. Sorelle barely hears any of it; her gaze keeps drifting to the coffin, to the flowers and to the empty space where Mireya used to be. She folds her hands together tightly, pressing her fingers into her skin. This is real. This is happening. “She was a strong woman.” Sorelle glances sideways to find a woman she doesn’t recognize has stepped beside her. She is tall, elegant and dressed in black like everyone else. “Yes,” Sorelle replies softly. “She was.” The woman studies the coffin for a moment. Then she looks at Sorelle. “You took care of her.” It’s not a question. Sorelle hesitates. “…I tried.” “You did more than try.” There’s a tone in her voice that makes Sorelle’s uneasy. Sorelle shakes her head faintly. “It was my responsibility.” The woman’s lips curve just a bit. “Was it?” Sorelle frowns, puzzled. “I’m sorry… do we know each other?” There's a brief pause. The woman tilts her head slightly, as if considering the question. “Not yet,” she says. Then she turns back toward the front. Conversation over. Sorelle stands there, unsettled. Not yet? What does that even mean. Applause breaks out softly as someone finishes speaking. The moment passes but the feeling doesn’t. Time moves strangely after that. People come and go, voices blur together and condolences are offered. “I’m sorry for your loss.” “You did so much.” “She was lucky to have you.” Sorelle nods, smiles faintly, and says thank you over and over until the words stop meaning anything. She catches glimpses of Kael across the room. Always surrounded by people, always composed and never looking at her. At some point, the crowd begins to thin. Kael moves toward the center of the room. The quiet follows him as conversations fade and all eyes turn toward him. Sorelle straightens slightly, instinctively. He’s going to say something. “Thank you all for coming,” Kael begins, his voice smooth and steady. “I truly appreciate your support during this time.” A few heads nods in agreement, soft murmurs filling the air. Sorelle watches him, feeling a tightness in her chest. Kael takes a moment, then adds, “There’s something else I need to address.” Sorelle’s breath catches in her throat. Her fingers curl slightly in anticipation. Kael turns, but not toward her. Instead, he faces the woman, the same one from earlier. She steps forward calmly, like she’s always belonged there. Sorelle’s heart stutters. “…Kael?” she whispers, her voice barely audible. He doesn’t look at her. Instead, he reaches out and takes the woman’s hand. The room goes completely still. Sorelle blinks once, twice. Her mind doesn’t process it at first. “…Kael?” she says again, louder. “What are you...” “This,” he says, his voice cutting cleanly through the silence, “is my wife.” The words hit but they don't quite register. Not yet. Sorelle lets out a small, bewildered laugh. “What…?” Her eyes dart between them, from their joined hands to his face and the woman’s calm demeanor. “This isn’t funny, ” she shakes her head, disbelief flooding her. No one laughs. No one moves. The woman beside him doesn’t let go of his hand, and Kael doesn’t look away. “This is Elowen,” he continues. “My legal wife.” Legal. The word echoes ominously. Sorelle’s smile fades. "Kael, what are you saying?” Her voice trembles this time. Finally, he looks at her and there’s no warmth in there. “You’re free to leave now, Sorelle,” he says. Just like that as if he’s dismissing a guest rather than addressing his wife. “…Leave?” Sorelle repeats, her voice hollow. “What do you mean leave?” Her chest tightens, a sharp sensational rising within her. “Kael, stop. Just stop talking like that. I don’t understand what’s going on.” A murmur ripples through the room but no one steps in or says anything. Kael’s grip on Elowen’s hand tightens. “There’s nothing to understand,” he says. “There is!” she snaps, her voice breaking. “You’re holding another woman’s hand and calling her your wife in front of everyone. What the hell do you mean there’s nothing to understand?” Her breathing quickens becoming uneven. “You’re my husband.” The words come out like a plea, as if she says them clearly enough, they’ll become true again. Kael’s face remains unfazed. “Not anymore,” he says. “You’re not.” Silence crashes down around her. Sorelle stares at him, her lips parting but nothing comes out. For a second, she feels herself sways like her body has .forgotten how to stay upright. “…That’s not... ” she whispers. “That’s not possible.” She laughs again, but it sounds broken. “We’re married. I signed ...we ...Kael, we have been married for two years.” “Yes,” he replies. “Then what are you saying?” she asks, her voice trembling now. “What are you trying to do?” Kael’s gaze stays steady. “You fulfilled your role.” The words slices through. “You can leave,” he repeats. Behind him, Elowen finally speaks, her voice gentle. “You did well,” she says. Sorelle turns to her slowly, her head spinning. “…Excuse me?” “You took care of everything,” she continues. “We appreciate it.” Sorelle’s stomach drops. “No,” she says, shaking her head. “No, wait...stop talking.” Her hands start to tremble. “This isn’t making any sense. Kael, say something.” Sorelle’s chest rises sharply as she struggles to breathe. “I stayed with her,” she blurts out, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Every single night. I took care of her. I gave her everything I could and you’re standing here telling me, what? That it was my job? That I’m just... staff?” No answer. No denial. That silence is more painful than anything. Her voice drops to a whisper. “…Was I even your wife?” Kael looks at her. “No,” he replies. Everything inside her stops. The world tilts on its axis. A sharp voice cuts through the room. “Police!” Heads turn as the door burst open and uniformed officers flood in. Sorelle remain frozen, her head still spinning, her heart still stuck somewhere between beats. "Sorelle Vance?" the lead officer asked, his face grim beneath the brim of his cap. Sorelle couldn't speak. She could only stare at the silver handcuffs glinting in the low, dramatic light. The officer steps forward. “We have a warrant for your arrest for the first degree murder of Mireya Drenwick.” Sorelle brow furrows faintly. “Murder?” she repeats. The officer grabs her wrist and handcuffs snaps around it. “Wait... no... what are you doing?” she gasps, finally snapping into action, pulling back instinctively. “There’s been a mistake. I didn’t do anything!” Her eyes dart to Kael. “Kael!” He stands there watching silently. “Tell them!” she cries, her voice breaking. “Tell them I didn’t do anything!” He doesn’t move, speak or even try. Sorelle’s heart sink. “…Kael,” she whispers. Nothing. Officers hands push her forward, the room spinning as faces blur and voices rise around her. “You have the right to remain silent...” “I didn’t do anything!” she shouts, panic finally breaking through. “I took care of her, I loved her, I would never do something like that.” Tears blur her vision as she struggles against the grip. “This is wrong! Kael, please!” He doesn’t answer. He just watches as they drag her past him, past the coffin and past the life she thought she had.