Snow-Laden Trees, Our Final Farewell
382 Views · Ongoing · Stella
On the night my husband’s assistant staged her 99th suicide threat, he hung my grandmother from a helicopter.
“Selena, apologize to Shirley publicly—across every platform—or I’ll drop her into the sea.”
Watching my grandmother’s terrified face suspended in midair, my voice trembled with pain:
“Elvis, just because I called her a homewrecker… you’d threaten Grandma’s life?”
Elvis smiled, his tone dripping with indulgence. “Shirley isn’t like you. She’s sensitive.”
“Besides, I’m only asking you to apologize. It doesn’t mean I’ve stopped loving you.”
Loving me?
I stared at the 999 intimate photos of him and Shirley on my phone, feeling as if my heart had been brutally stabbed.
If that was his idea of love, then I wanted no part of it.
I texted my mentor: “I accept the offer. I’ll go abroad for the design competition in seven days.”
In seven days, I’ll stage my death and disappear—where he can never find me again.
“Selena, apologize to Shirley publicly—across every platform—or I’ll drop her into the sea.”
Watching my grandmother’s terrified face suspended in midair, my voice trembled with pain:
“Elvis, just because I called her a homewrecker… you’d threaten Grandma’s life?”
Elvis smiled, his tone dripping with indulgence. “Shirley isn’t like you. She’s sensitive.”
“Besides, I’m only asking you to apologize. It doesn’t mean I’ve stopped loving you.”
Loving me?
I stared at the 999 intimate photos of him and Shirley on my phone, feeling as if my heart had been brutally stabbed.
If that was his idea of love, then I wanted no part of it.
I texted my mentor: “I accept the offer. I’ll go abroad for the design competition in seven days.”
In seven days, I’ll stage my death and disappear—where he can never find me again.




