Life After Sue
I met Heather. She was practical, grounded, steady—the kind of person who could build a life with me in a way that Sue, with her ethereal presence and spontaneous spirit, could never have.
We dated, married, and created a quiet, predictable life. Two children—Jonah and Claire—filled our home with laughter and chaos, a dog who never stopped shedding, and school events, camping trips, and long holiday drives. It wasn’t a bad life. It was just… different.
Years later, Heather and I divorced. It wasn’t explosive or cruel. We had become roommates who cared about each other but no longer shared the same heartbeat.
We split our belongings evenly, hugged awkwardly in a lawyer’s office, and focused on raising our children as best we could.
Yet, Sue never fully left my thoughts. Every December, she returned, like a ghost of Christmas past, when lights twinkled against frosted windows and the scent of pine needles filled the living room. I’d wonder if she was happy, if she remembered us, if she ever knew that I had never truly walked away.
