No one tells you how hard it is to watch the
one you love, the one you married, the one you
thought you'd be with forever. Slowly waste away
and die. Eric was my heart, my everything. Four
years ago, he was diagnosed with cancer. We thought
we could save him, maybe even get it out. Stage
three. It's supposed to be better, right? But
no, it got worse. And now everything has changed
for us. I've been taking care of him for the
last three years and it's exhausting. But I get
to spend more time with him. At least before
he dies. We don't have any kids. That's fine.
I guess. He got his diagnosis two years after
our marriage. But I want to say I'm mad. Angry
that I don't get to have another piece of him.
Angry that there won't be a little version of
us running around. But it is what it is. And
I have to accept that. The bills are piling up
because I don't work anymore. He used to be an
engineer, so at least his savings and benefits
are what's taking care of us now. I don't know
how long it will last. Maybe after his death,
the life insurance will pay. But I don't want
to think about that right now. Two weeks ago,
Eric took a turn for the worse. He started coughing
in the middle of the night. and I had to call
the ambulance. They said there's nothing else
they can do for him, that I need to consider
hospice care. I didn't want to do it. But seeing
him like that, without the proper medication
to ease his pain, killed me inside. So I did
what they said. Eric seems better now. Well,
he spoke to me today. He seemed more sprightly,
almost like he was getting better. We had a long
chat and took a walk outside on the terrace.
Honestly, it's the best time we've had in months.
Let's just hope it stays like that. Unfortunately,
our time was up and I had to leave to go to the
supermarket. The house was basically empty and
I hadn't had time to shop. Now I'm standing in
the supermarket in a daze because I usually shop
for two. But now I'm shopping for one. I pick
up a few items, then put some back. By the time
I get to the cashier, Brandon is there, standing
at the front of the line. Brandon is my neighbor,
tall, dark, and handsome. A girl's dream. He
has been my neighbor for some time, actually.
We met him when we first moved in. He's kind
and sweet, always helpful. Ever since he heard
about Eric's diagnosis, He's been offering to
help in any way he can. Two days ago he mowed
the lawn, and I was grateful. I finished paying
for my groceries, and he's standing by the door.
I push my trolley toward him. Do you need help
with that? I think I'm fine. You don't look fine.
How's Eric? He's good. We spoke today, and he
seemed more sprightly. That's a good sign, right?
Brandon's face drops, like he knows something
I don't. Have you ever heard of the surge? The
surge? Never mind. I'll walk you to your car.
I nod, because I'm not in the mood to argue.
As we roll toward the car in silence, all I can
think about is what he said. The surge? What
is that? At the car, he helps me pack the groceries
into the trunk. What's the surge? I ask again.
It's nothing. Forget it. I stare at him, wanting
to know what he's really talking about, but he
brushes it off again. I push my trolley toward
the cart return, and Brandon is still there.
He's so patient, but sometimes it kind of irks
me. Thanks. I mutter before starting the car,
and like the gentleman he is, he walks off when
I drive off. When I pull into my driveway, I'm
surprised to see him right behind me. Brandon
gets out. grabs a few of my bags and follows
me inside. You can put them on the counter. He
sets them down, glancing around the kitchen.
I'm not sure what he's looking for. It's just
me here. But this is the third time he's been
inside my house. The first was when a squirrel
got in through the cabinet vent. I called him
and he came without hesitation. The second was
when I couldn't find the main after a pipe burst
in the kitchen. He'd found it and shut it off
so I could call the plumber. And now, he's here
again. I'm grateful. So, how are you doing? No
one ever asks me that. They only ever ask about
Eric. I'm fine, I guess. Are you sure? If you
want to talk or if you need help with anything,
I'm here. Just call me, okay? I nod again. I'm
serious. Yes. I'll call you, Brandon. Alright,
I'll see you, okay? I walk him to the door and
close it behind him. Then I rush back to the
counter, pull out my phone and search for the
word. Shit. I grip the edge of the counter as
my heart starts pounding. Fuck. Fuck. It's nothing
good. I sit at the kitchen counter for god knows
how long, crying my eyes out. until I finally
gain enough courage to get up and shower. By
the time I step out, my phone is ringing. Three
missed calls. I answer, and it's the hospice.
Mrs. Bellup, you need to get here now. The phone
slips from my hand. Fuck, he's dying. He's fucking
dying on me. Shit. I throw on clothes and head
downstairs. My keys slip from my trembling hands.
I can't see through the blur of tears. Everything
is hazy. I fumble for my phone and call Brandon.
He answers, his voice groggy. Shawna? It's the
hospice. They called. It's Eric. I don't think
I can drive. His voice sharpens. Okay, yes. Give
me five minutes, okay? I slide down to the floor,
my back against the counter. Brandon's at my
door in three. My car or yours? I just nod. Okay.
I'll bring my car closer. We pull up to the hospice.
My head is pounding with a nasty headache. Before
I get out, Brandon leans over. I'll be right
out here. Just let me know when you're ready.
I nod again. He has no idea I might faint the
moment I walk through those doors. But I make
it inside. It's too late. Eric is gone. Gone!
Nothing prepared me for seeing his lifeless body
on that bed. I knew he was sick. But why did
he leave without saying goodbye? Why did he fucking
die without saying goodbye to me? Fuck! I reach
for him, shaking him. No response. Damn it, Eric.
Why would you go before I got here? Why? I stay
there for a while. lying next to him. It's late,
after two in the morning, and I should be getting
home. I don't even know if Brandon's still outside.
My stomach twists. I meet with the head of the
hospice about funeral arrangements. Eric wanted
to be cremated, so I'll honor that. It'll happen
in less than three days. When I walk outside,
Brandon is still there. slouched in the cold
car with his seat reclined as if he's been sleeping.
He's a dental surgeon. He should be resting.
I slip into the car and he sits upright. He doesn't
have to ask. He knows. He says softly, No point
talking about it. No point sharing any feelings.
Right now, I'm numb. The ride is silent. Brandon
follows me to the door and I tell him I'm fine,
but he doesn't buy it. Shauna, it's okay to grieve.
Please. I unlock the door and step inside. Then
the anger hits me. I turn, pounding my fists
against his chest. Why did he leave? Why didn't
he wait until I got there? He just died. He just
fucking died without me. He didn't even wait.
I collapse, but Brandon catches me. holding me
up that's just how things are i deserved at least
a goodbye why was it so hard to just wait i'm
sorry i pull away from him go i need to be by
myself right now are you sure i said leave i'm
just a phone call away or you can walk over i'll
answer i don't need your pity shauna i'm not
i slam the door in his face It's been weeks since
Eric's funeral, and nothing feels the same. I've
spent most of my days lying in bed. I can't even
smell him anymore. And that's the fucked up part.
It's like he was here. But now he doesn't exist
at all. No trace of him. I reach for his jacket
in the cupboard and press it to my face. It's
insane, because he hasn't worn it in years. But
I'm desperate for anything that still feels like
him. I don't know what to do with myself. My
meals are nothing but yogurt and fruit. Brandon
has tried. He doesn't come over, not unless he's
invited. But he's been sending packages of food,
soups, juices. I can't bring myself to eat them
so they just sit there until they go bad. Another
week passes in a blur, sadly. I'm still in bed,
and it's after 11 a .m., when the sound of a
motor jolts me awake. I peek outside to see Brandon
mowing my lawn. He's almost finished. Had I slept
through most of it? His dedication is, I don't
even know. Brandon's a divorcee. His wife left
him two years ago. She found someone else. He
took it in strides, and I think he's doing fairly
well. Much better than me anyway. Now, living
just across the street, he's found time to do
things. Things that somehow include helping me.
I take a quick shower and head downstairs. Brandon's
out front now, pulling weeds from the corner
of the house. I fill a jug and a glass with water,
then carry it out to him. He smiles when he sees
me, but I don't smile back. Here. You might need
this, I say, handing him the glass. Thanks, I
just... I saw the grass getting overgrown and
I thought... It's okay, thanks. He gives me a
small smile, finishes the water, and goes back
to working in the grass. I head back inside,
curl up on the couch, and pull a duvet over me.
I don't turn on the TV, I just stare blankly.
I still can't believe Eric is gone. His urn sits
on the mantle, and sometimes I feel like it shouldn't
even be there. Someone recommended I see a therapist,
but I can't bring myself to do that right now.
Right now, I just want... to be. But I know I'll
have to find a job soon. I used to work as an
assistant executive secretary, but when Eric
got sick, I resigned. The bills aren't going
to pay themselves, so I'll have to get back out
there. I just... I don't feel like doing anything
right now. I hear a faint noise. And when I get
up, the whole house is in darkness. I must have
fallen asleep. It's already after six in the
evening. The sound comes again. A knock at the
door. I drag myself up and open it groggily.
Brandon stands there, a worried look on his face.
Shana, are you okay? I nod. The house is still
dark, and I'm not sure what's going on. I was
asleep. Sorry. No, don't apologize. I was just
checking in. Have you eaten? I shake my head.
I don't have much of a stomach. He holds up a
brown bag. I ordered some food for you. Is that
okay? I take it from him. Thanks. Well, at least
you're okay. I'll be leaving you now, but don't
forget to put on some light, okay? I nod, and
as he starts to walk away, I stop him. Wait,
have you eaten too? I was just about to. Do you
want to eat with me? He looks at me like he's
making sure I mean it. I hold the bag up and
shake it a little with a forced smile. Okay,
let me just close my door and stuff. I'll be
right back. I flick on all the lights and move
to the dining table. It's a small table for two,
just enough for a couple, because that's what
Eric and I were. I set the food on the table.
A minute later, Brandon returns. When Brandon
opens the bag, the smell of mac and cheese and
barbecue chicken fills the air. My stomach growls
madly. I hadn't been hungry before, but now I
feel it. It smells so good. We begin eating in
silence. And halfway through the meal, I ask,
So, how's work going? Brandon nods, swallows.
Good, actually. I just took on two interns. Well,
not really interns. They're finished, but I let
them rent the space and do their own thing. I'm
trying to move more into a managerial role, if
I can call it that. I want to run the dental
business without being there every single day,
just for special requests or major surgeries.
It gives me more time for myself. and for other
things. Oh, okay, I see. So your assistant is
handling everything, I guess. I'm genuinely concerned,
but I also want to know if he's in need of an
assistant or something. Yep. Always wanted to
be my own boss, so this way I can still do my
work, but on my own timing. He pauses. What about
you? Planning to get back to work? I set my bowl
of mac and cheese down. I haven't really found
a job yet. I plan to look, but... He leans forward.
I have a friend, well, a colleague, who's looking
to hire an assistant. Maybe I can put them on
to you. I smile for the first time in a long
time. That would be really great. Thanks. He
grins. Sometimes I wonder what I'd really do
without you. The words slip out, and I regret
them instantly. But Brandon doesn't say a thing.
He just smiles. We finish eating in silence.
Brandon, being the gentleman he always is, clears
the table. Even though I insist on washing the
dishes, he does it himself and then takes out
the trash. At the door, he smiles. Well, have
a good night. I enjoyed dinner. As usual, if
you need anything, don't hesitate to call. I
nod. I wait until he closes his front door before
heading upstairs for a shower. I get into the
shower and five minutes in. I'm screaming. The
water has stopped. I knew it would happen someday.
But not today. Not this week. Not this month.
Not when I'm still trying to get over Eric. I
slump into the tub, skin wet and half soapy,
trying to control myself. This was the one thing
he always fixed, even when he was sick. I stare
up at the shower head as the last drip splashes
against my face. I don't know how to fix it,
because Eric had always been the one. I slap
it, twist the knob off and back on. Still nothing.
Fuck. Angry, I storm out, wrapped in a towel
and head downstairs to the guest bathroom. Since
then, I've been bathing downstairs. But whenever
I forget and turn on the broken shower upstairs,
it cuts me open again. I don't even brush my
teeth in there anymore because it makes me emotional.
Now I'm wondering if I should just move downstairs.
It's been weeks, and I still haven't gotten the
shower to work. On the bright side, I've got
a job now, thanks to Brandon. He'd been out of
town for a dental conference, but he came back
yesterday. Somehow, just knowing he's home makes
me feel better. I shouldn't feel this excited,
but I do. Maybe it's the company. Maybe it's
just him. After a long day at work, I cross through
the living room and nearly faint. A huge spider,
bigger than my hand, is plastered to the wall.
The whole neighborhood must have heard me scream
when it jumped. I bolt outside, breathless, and
collapse onto the patio. There's no way I'm going
back in there with that thing. Fuck that. If
Eric had been alive, I squeeze my eyes shut,
stifling my thoughts. God, not again. I cover
my face, stifling another wave of tears. My therapist
says I need to let the feelings happen, acknowledge
the grief when it comes, but not when I'm outside,
not when everyone's watching. So I get up and
start walking. I circle the block, something
I haven't done in years. And when I return, Brandon
is pulling into his driveway. He's wearing a
gray t -shirt and track pants, sweat darkening
the fabric. He spots me sitting on the steps
and looks surprised. He checks his watch, then
back at me. It's nearly eight, already dark,
so I know he's definitely confused. I smile nervously.
Had fun at the gym. Yeah Are you okay? I shake
my head guilt rushing in Not really. There's
a giant spider in my living room. I came home
and it was just there so I'm out here So you've
been sitting out here all this time I Nod and
he laughs again shaking his head You could have
called me. I Didn't want to interrupt your workout,
but Shauna You're sitting outside in the dark.
I... I took a walk, first in years. Isn't that
a good thing? Yeah, but... Brandon shakes his
head again and walks past me into the house.
Where is it? I don't have a clue. Seconds later...
There it is. I scream when I see it running towards
the standing lamp. It's not that big. For you.
And somehow, like it's nothing. He walks right
up and grabs the damn thing. I yelp. How? How
can you even do that? I bolt to the far side
of the room as he ushers it out. Kill it. I yell.
Don't just release it. It'll come back. It's
harmless. I'll let it go in my yard. It can just
cross the street. He laughs. I doubt it. I don't
want it here. If it comes back, I'll blame you.
He disappears outside and returns a moment later.
All good? For now. But what if it laid eggs?
He laughs out loud. Then I'll come and get them
one by one. I eye him. Brandon can be such a
charm. Still, I'm glad he's my neighbor. Well,
if that's all, I'm gonna take a shower. Pretty
sure you can smell me. No, I can't. Yeah, mhm.
He heads toward the door. Wait! I say. scratching
the back of my neck. What's up? My shower, it's
not working. Eric used to tinker with it, but
now... It's fine. I can look at it. My dad was
a plumber. I worked with him during summers.
I can fix things, you know. Really? Then why'd
you tell me to call a plumber when the pipe burst
in the kitchen? Out of respect. I didn't want
to overstep. It would have been fine. We stare
at each other as the silence grows heavier. We
both know what the elephant in the room is. Eric
was still alive at the time, and inviting the
handsome neighbor over to do things for me might
send the wrong signal to him. But Eric isn't
like that. He's not the jealous type. He would
have been grateful to Brandon for even making
my life a little easier. But he doesn't know
that. Finally, Brandon clears his throat. So,
where's the shower? Ah, upstairs. I usher Brandon
upstairs to my matrimonial bedroom, and somehow
it feels wrong. Almost like a sin. Like I'm about
to defile something sacred by letting another
man, one who is not my husband, step into this
space. I show him the bathroom, keeping my distance.
So it just stopped? I nod. It usually does that
ever since we moved here sometimes it works for
weeks and then suddenly I sit in the side chair
watching him feel around Then he steps into the
tub. I nearly jump out of my skin when he taps
the shower head and the water sprays down drenching
him Shit, I rush over and immediately regret
it He manages to shut it off, but I can't shut
my eyes Brandon is soaked his gray cotton t -shirt
plastered to his body. And God help me, every
line of his chest and abs are on display. He
clears his throat, breaking my shameful gaze.
Flushed, I turn away, shielding my face. Sorry,
good God, I'm so sorry. Brandon chuckles softly.
Shauna, it's fine. It's not. This, this is tasteless.
My husband isn't even gone three months and here
I am staring at you like, like that. I storm
out of the bathroom. He follows, gently resting
his hand on my shoulder. It's fine. Don't beat
yourself up. You're only human. I shake my head.
It wasn't right. Guilt floods me, twisting my
stomach. Eric, he didn't deserve this. Maybe
this was a bad idea. You should go but it's working
now. Thanks Shauna I Brandon, please please go
I Shove him lightly toward the door. I don't
follow He knows his way out Collapsing onto the
couch beside the bed. I reach for the photo frame
of Eric and me Why is it so hard to live without
him? Why did he have to leave me? Why him? The
world is cruel, and it chose me to be its victim.
I miss him. God, I miss Eric every single day.
And yet, the way I looked at Brandon's body,
how it stirred something in me, fills me with
shame. There's no excuse. None. I set the frame
back on the nightstand. From beneath the bed,
I pull out the old keepsake box Eric and I once
filled with trinkets of our life together. I
stopped adding to it when he got sick. Nothing
felt fun anymore, not when he couldn't share
it. The box has shifted deep under the bed, and
I have to use a hanger to pull it free. Maybe
seeing our memories again will ease the ache.
My breath hitches when I notice a green envelope
resting on top. My hands shake as I fumble it
open. A letter from Eric, written a year ago.
My dearest Shauna, if you are holding this letter,
then my fight is over and I am gone. I left these
words where I knew you would one day find them,
among the little treasures of our life together.
Because I feared this day would come and that
you would forget how to live without me. It breaks
my heart to imagine you stopping, to imagine
you putting away joy because of me. But, my love,
my heartbeat, my best friend, you were never
meant to stop living. You are the very essence
of life itself. You are laughter on the wind,
the warmth of sunrise, the music in silence.
You are love in its purest form. If grief has
chained you, I beg you, set yourself free. I
would never sleep peacefully knowing my memory
shackled you from happiness. Please, Shawnee,
don't waste the miracle that is you by keeping
it locked in the past. You deserve to love again.
You deserve to be cherished again. Because you
are love, and love like yours was never meant
to die with me. Time was precious, golden, unrepeatable,
but it was only a chapter. Now, I want you to
write more, experience more, feel more, let someone
else see the wonder that I saw every day in your
eyes. Carry me with you, yes, but carry me lightly,
not as a burden, but as a blessing. Our essence
will live on forever in the echoes of our laughter.
in the touch of your hand on the keepsakes we
shared, in the very beating of your heart. But
now, my love, it is time for you to live again.
To open yourself to joy, to beauty, to love in
all its forms. Because you deserve everything.
Forever yours, Eric. The letter slips from my
trembling hands. soaked with my tears. I press
my face into the cushions as sobs of anguish
spill from me, breaking me open. No words come,
only heartbreaking silence. I clutch the empty
air where Eric should have been, and I say nothing,
only letting the silence hold me. You have met
the end of The Widow, part one. Stay tuned for
part two. And if you haven't already, subscribe,
share, and follow me on TikTok and YouTube. See
ya. Bye.