Substitute Wife

Chapter 5: The Goodbye Plan

The morning light filtered through gauzy curtains, casting a soft gold over the bedroom walls. The room smelled faintly of jasmine, likely from the lotion Tatiana always used—its subtle fragrance still clinging to the fabric of her pillow and the folds of her blanket. Tabatha sat at the edge of the bed, her fingers nervously knotting themselves in her lap while Tatiana shifted against the pillows behind her.

“You don’t have to look so scared,” Tatiana said softly, a playful smile dancing across her lips despite the weakness in her voice.

“I’m not scared,” Tabatha replied, though her voice betrayed the lie.

Tatiana chuckled lightly. “You always were the worst liar.”

“I think you’re confusing me with someone else,” Tabatha said, trying for levity.

But her sister only gave her that knowing look—the kind that sliced through every mask she'd ever worn.

Tabatha looked away, pretending to study the floral pattern on the wallpaper. She hadn’t expected to feel this awkward, this small, in front of Tatiana. Somehow she thought time would’ve dulled the intimacy between them, made it easier to pretend they’d never been sisters in the ways that mattered. But there was no denying it now. No rehearsed detachment could stand in the face of Tatiana’s gaze, hollowed by illness but filled with a kind of purpose that felt heavier than it should.

“I have something for you,” Tatiana said after a long moment.

She gestured toward the small drawer by the bed. Tabatha reached over, opened it carefully, and pulled out a small, leather-bound journal tied with a ribbon. Its edges were worn, the corners frayed, as if it had been opened and closed a hundred times.

“What is it?”

“My goodbye plan.”

Tabatha froze. “Tatiana…”

“Just open it.”

With a hesitant breath, Tabatha untied the ribbon and flipped the journal open. The first page was a dated entry in Tatiana’s looping, careful handwriting.

If you’re reading this, Tabatha, then I did the unthinkable—I pulled you back into a life you’d long walked away from. I wish I could apologize for that, but I won’t. Because what I need isn’t fair, but it’s necessary.

Beneath that were bullet points. Names. Dates. Instructions. Even Katie’s favorite breakfast.

“She likes peanut butter on waffles,” Tatiana said quietly. “Not on toast. Only waffles. She says the grooves hold the flavor better.”

Tabatha blinked rapidly, swallowing hard. “You wrote all this for me?”

“No,” Tatiana said. “I wrote it for her.”

Her voice faltered, but her resolve didn’t.

“I want her to have someone who will know how to fold her socks the way she likes. Who won’t panic when she wakes up from a nightmare and asks for her blanket—not the pink one, but the one with stars. Someone who will talk to her about the world she doesn’t see but imagines so vividly. Someone who will love her... even if they weren’t planning to.”

Tabatha ran her hand down the edge of a page. It contained an entire bedtime routine in intricate detail.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Tati.”

“You can,” Tatiana said, squeezing her hand. “You’ve always been stronger than you knew.”

“That’s the thing. I don’t know how to love like you do. I don’t know how to mother.”

Tatiana laughed softly. “You think I did when she was born? I was terrified. I kept thinking they’d realize I had no idea what I was doing and take her away. But then she cried, and I held her, and somehow... I just knew I’d never stop trying.”

Tabatha looked down at their joined hands. “What if I’m not enough?”

Tatiana took a long breath before speaking. “You will be. Because love isn’t about perfection. It’s about staying. About being there in the quiet moments. The hard ones. The in-between. Katie doesn’t need a replacement. She just needs someone who won’t leave.”

There was a long silence.

Finally, Tabatha asked, “What about Kyle?”

“What about him?”

Tabatha hesitated. “He barely looks at me. Barely talks. He’s... cold.”

“He’s broken,” Tatiana said softly. “But not beyond repair. He’s poured everything into Katie for so long that he’s forgotten how to be anything else. He thinks if he lets go—if he allows himself to feel anything again—it’ll mean letting go of me, too.”

Tabatha didn’t answer.

Tatiana sighed, leaning her head back against the pillow. “Kyle doesn’t need you to fix him. Just don’t disappear on him. Be patient. Show up. Like you did today.”

Tabatha turned the page in the journal. More plans. Katie’s school schedule. Doctor’s appointments. Favorite books. Even suggestions for bedtime stories.

“You really planned everything.”

“I had to,” Tatiana whispered. “It was the only way I could let go.”

Her voice trembled.

“I don’t want her to wake up one day and forget what a mother’s love felt like. Even if it’s not mine anymore.”

Tears welled in Tabatha’s eyes.

Tatiana looked at her then, more serious than she had all morning. “I know this isn’t the life you imagined. But it’s one worth living.”

“I’m not you,” Tabatha whispered.

“No,” Tatiana said. “You’re not. And that’s why this will work.”

---

Later that afternoon, they sat together on the porch, wrapped in silence, sipping lukewarm tea from mismatched mugs. The wind picked up slightly, brushing the chimes into motion. It was peaceful, in a way that hurt more than comforted.

“I remember this porch,” Tabatha said.

Tatiana smiled. “We used to draw sidewalk chalk on the steps and get yelled at by Mom.”

“You always made me take the blame.”

“You were the baby. It worked.”

They both laughed.

Then quiet settled again.

“I wish we’d had more time,” Tabatha said eventually.

“We wasted a lot of it,” Tatiana admitted.

Tabatha looked down at her mug. “Do you regret it?”

“No,” Tatiana said. “Because you’re here now. And that means everything.”

As the sun dipped behind the trees, Tabatha helped her sister back inside, tucked her gently into bed, and sat with her until her eyes fluttered closed.

She stayed long after the room went quiet.

The journal was on the nightstand.

Tabatha picked it up, pressed it to her chest, and whispered, “I’ll try, Tati. I’ll really try.”

Outside, the stars began to peek through the sky, and somewhere in the house, the gentle echo of a piano began to play.