The Year I Died, He Was Marrying Someone Else

The Year I Died, He Was Marrying Someone Else I had been William’s mistress for four years. On the day I died, he was marrying someone else. “You didn’t come on my big day. What, you don’t want to see me marry another woman?” “Or do you think I’ll give in if you throw a tantrum?” “Olivia, I’ll say this one last time. If you don’t show up today, don’t ever think about coming back.” Later, he knelt before my grave and personally carved my epitaph. “My wife, Olivia. Born when the last pear blossom fell, died the year I loved her most.” That was the first time he admitted he loved me. But what did it matter? I was already dead.