Updated Feb 23, 2026 • ~8 min read
POV: Rory
Three days later, I’m still at Priya’s when my lawyer calls.
Her name is Rebecca Chen. She’s sharp, expensive, and the only person who seems to understand how insane this situation is.
“We need to respond to the annulment petition,” she says.
“How?”
“By filing our own petition. Arguing that your marriage should be recognized as putative—entered in good faith without knowledge of the prior marriage.”
“Will that work?”
“Maybe. It’s complicated—”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Because it IS complicated. Washington state has limited precedent for this exact situation. But we have a case. Dominic believed his first wife was deceased. You had no knowledge of her. You both entered the marriage honestly.”
“But we’re still not legally married.”
“Not currently. But if we win, the court could grant you some protections. Recognize you as a spouse for purposes of property division, benefits, things like that.”
“But not actually married.”
“No. For that, Dominic would need to divorce Celeste first.”
“Which he won’t do.”
“Has he said that?”
“He’s brought her into our house. Let her file for annulment without fighting it. Pretty clear where his priorities are.”
Rebecca is quiet for a moment.
“Rory, I have to ask. Do you want to fight this? Because fighting means court, depositions, airing your private life publicly. It’s expensive and painful and there’s no guarantee we win.”
“What’s the alternative?”
“Walk away. Let the annulment go through. Move on with your life.”
Move on.
Like Dominic moved on from Celeste.
“I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Then we fight. I’ll draft our response today.”
After I hang up, Priya asks: “Are you sure about this?”
“About what?”
“Fighting for a man who won’t fight for you.”
“He’s my husband.”
“Is he though?”
The question haunts me all day.
That night, Dominic shows up at Priya’s door.
She answers. Glares at him.
“She doesn’t want to see you.”
“I need to talk to her.”
“Too bad—”
“It’s okay,” I call from the couch. “Let him in.”
Priya steps aside reluctantly.
Dominic looks worse than before. Exhausted. Defeated.
“Can we talk? Alone?”
Priya looks at me. I nod.
She leaves, but not before shooting Dominic a death glare.
“How are you?” he asks.
“How do you think?”
“I’m sorry. About the annulment. About all of it.”
“Are you sorry enough to stop it?”
“I’m trying to convince Celeste to drop it—”
“Trying isn’t succeeding.”
“She’s hurt. Angry. She needs time.”
“And what about what I need?”
He sits next to me on the couch.
“Tell me. What do you need?”
“I need you to choose me. Publicly. Definitively. Not ‘I love you both’ or ‘it’s complicated.’ I need you to say ‘Rory is my wife and I’m fighting for our marriage.'”
“I can’t do that while Celeste is living with me. It would destroy her.”
“And this is destroying ME.”
“I know.”
“So what—we’re at a standstill? I lose because she’s more fragile?”
“You’re not losing—”
“I AM losing. My marriage. My home. You. I’m losing everything.”
“Come home,” he says suddenly.
“What?”
“Come home. To the house. You’re right—it’s YOUR house too. You shouldn’t have to leave.”
“Your other wife is living there.”
“In the guest room. You’d be in our bedroom. With me.”
“You want me to live with you AND her?”
“Until we figure this out, yes.”
“That’s insane.”
“I know. But it’s the only way I can be with both of you right now.”
“I don’t WANT you to be with both of us. I want you to be with ME.”
“Rory—”
“Go home, Dominic. To your wife. Your LEGAL wife. And think about what you really want. Because I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be second choice.”
“You’re not—”
“I am. Every time you choose her comfort over our relationship, I’m second. Every time you let her make decisions about OUR life, I’m second. I’m tired of being second.”
He reaches for my hand.
I pull away.
“I love you,” he says.
“I love you too. But love isn’t enough. Not when you’re too guilty to choose me.”
“Give me time. Please. Let me figure this out.”
“How much time? Because I can’t wait forever. Unlike Celeste, I have a choice. And I’m choosing to protect myself.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m done waiting for you to decide. I’m filing a counter-petition. Fighting for my marriage to be recognized. And if you’re not willing to fight WITH me, then I’ll do it alone.”
“Rory—”
“Go home, Dominic.”
He leaves.
I sit in the silence, wondering if I just lost him forever.
Two days later, I do something crazy.
I go to the house.
MY house.
Not to see Dominic. To see Celeste.
I need to talk to her. Woman to woman. Without Dominic as buffer.
I use my key. Walk in.
Dominic’s at work. The house is quiet.
“Hello?” I call.
“In here,” Celeste’s voice from the living room.
I find her on the couch. She’s using a walker now, can move around the house slowly.
She sees me and her face hardens.
“What are you doing here?”
“I live here. Legally, half this house is mine.”
“For now.”
I sit in the armchair across from her.
“We need to talk.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“Then listen. I know you hate me. I get it. But I didn’t do this on purpose. I didn’t know about you. Neither did Dominic.”
“He should have known. Should have checked. Made sure.”
“The doctors said you were brain dead. Everyone did. What was he supposed to do?”
“Wait for me.”
“He did wait. For two years. That’s a long time to grieve.”
“Not long enough.”
“When would it have been long enough? Five years? Ten? Should he have stayed alone forever for a woman who might never wake up?”
“Yes. We made VOWS.”
“And he honored those vows. Until everyone—doctors, lawyers, family—told him you were gone.”
“But I WASN’T gone.”
“He didn’t know that.”
We stare at each other.
“Why are you really here?” Celeste asks.
“To ask you to drop the annulment petition.”
She laughs. Actually laughs.
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not. This isn’t helping anyone. It’s just making everything worse.”
“It’s helping ME. Getting rid of you so I can have my husband back.”
“He doesn’t want to come back to you.”
The words are cruel but true.
Celeste’s expression crumbles.
“He loved me once.”
“I know. And that love matters. It’s real. But people change. He’s not the same man you married. And you’re not the same woman.”
“Because I was in a COMA. I didn’t choose to change.”
“I know. And that’s terrible. But it doesn’t mean he has to stay the same too.”
“So I just… what? Give up? Let you have him?”
“I’m asking you to let him choose. Really choose. Without guilt or legal pressure or obligation. Just… give him the freedom to choose what he really wants.”
“And if he chooses you?”
“Then you deserve better than someone who’s only with you out of guilt.”
“And if he chooses me?”
“Then I’ll walk away.”
Would I though?
I don’t know.
But I need her to believe it.
Celeste is quiet for a long time.
“I can’t drop the petition,” she finally says. “I need to know that marriage isn’t valid. That I’m still his legal wife.”
“You can know that without erasing me.”
“Can I? Because every time I look at you, I see the life I should have had. The house. The husband. The future. You’re living MY life.”
“This isn’t your life. You and Dominic lived in an apartment downtown. This house didn’t exist when you were together. This life is MINE and his. Not yours.”
“Only because I wasn’t awake to live it.”
She’s right.
And that’s the tragedy.
She didn’t choose this. Neither did I.
We’re both victims of circumstances.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “For what happened to you. It’s not fair.”
“No. It’s not.”
“But punishing me won’t make it fair.”
“Maybe not. But it’s all I have.”
The front door opens.
Dominic’s home.
He sees both of us. Freezes.
“What’s going on?”
“I was just leaving,” I say.
I grab my things. Head for the door.
“Rory—”
“Don’t. Just… don’t.”
I leave them there.
The husband I love and the wife he can’t let go.
And I realize:
I can’t do this.
I can’t fight for someone who won’t fight for me.
I can’t be the other woman in my own marriage.
It’s time to make a choice.
Even if it breaks my heart.
END OF CHAPTER 9
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