My husband used to be famous. And when you’re married to a celebrity who suddenly disappears, you’re famous too. There were rumors, of course. They said that I had betrayed him, that I had done all kinds of terrible things. But how could I, the dutiful and perfect wife, ever do anything to harm the man I loved? That I love. Will always love.

You see, sometimes love calls us to do things that others couldn’t possibly comprehend. My husband, the troubled genius, needed me more than he realized. I knew him better than he knew himself, better than his adoring fans, better than his spoiled, ungrateful children and certainly far better than his obsessive ex-wife who just couldn’t seem to let go. I knew him better than anyone in the whole world and I knew he wasn’t well.

He needed my help, but the more I tried, the more of my youth and beauty and vitality I sacrificed for his sake, the more he pushed me away and I couldn’t allow him to destroy himself. I had to take matters into my own hands, because true love doesn’t take no for an answer.

It really couldn’t have ended any other way.

We were bound to this fate from the moment we met. His pain was simply too much for him to bare and that’s why I did what I did, for love.

He’s free now, free of all that suffering, so I’m not sorry and I’m not afraid. I’m going to meet him now and we will be together forever.