The Taste of a Replacement
The music in the French restaurant continued to drift softly through the air. A waiter passed by once, then again, but Emilia didn’t notice.
Her eyes were fixed on the photo album in front of her, unblinking, as if part of her soul had slipped away, leaving behind a hollow stillness.
The woman in the photographs gazed back at her in silence, wearing that same gentle smile.
Emilia sat there for a long time, struggling to breathe.
When she finally spoke, the sound that came out of her mouth was broken and thin.
“That’s…” She lifted her head slowly, her eyes red as she looked at Susan. “Who is she?”
Susan’s smile didn’t waver. It was calm—so calm it was almost chilling. She set her wineglass down gently.
“That,” she said softly, “was my best friend.”
Emilia’s breath caught in her throat.
“And Sebastian’s former wife,” Susan continued. “Elowen Vaughn.”
She paused, watching Emilia carefully.
“If she were still alive,” Susan added, her voice warm, almost tender, “I believe she would be very eager to meet you.”
Emilia sat rigidly in her chair, as if time itself had frozen around her. The noise of the restaurant faded into a distant hum.
Her hands lay limp in her lap. She couldn’t remember when she had stopped breathing.
Susan watched her for a moment, then let out a quiet sigh. “She loved white dresses, and she looked great in them,” she said, almost absently. “Elowen always looked beautiful in white.”
Emilia didn’t move.
Susan tilted her head slightly. “And let me guess—Sebastian asked you to wear white more often, didn’t he?”
The words slid under Emilia’s skin.
Slowly, she lowered her gaze back to the photograph.
The glossy surface caught the light. The woman’s smile seemed to glow.
After a long time, Emilia heard her own voice, thin and distant. “She… she passed away?”
Susan nodded. “Yes. Eleven years ago.”
Emilia’s eyes burned as if they might bleed.
No. That couldn’t be right.
How could she look so much like Sebastian’s former wife?! What was that supposed to mean?
No—this wasn’t possible. He had been so gentle with her. So patient. He had treated her with such care, such quiet tenderness.
That couldn’t all be a lie.
Her thoughts scrambled, desperate for something to hold on to.
This had to be Susan’s plan. Or a trick.
Yes. That was it.
This had to be Susan’s scheme.
Emilia lifted her head abruptly, staring at Susan with wild disbelief. “I don’t believe you,” she said hoarsely. “You’re lying. You hate me for sleeping with your husband, so you made this up.” Her breath came fast. “These photos—this must be generated by AI. People fake things all the time now!”
Susan didn’t respond right away.
Then she laughed.
The sound rang out, light and almost amused. “AI?” she repeated. “You have quite an imagination.” She shook her head, still smiling. “If you don’t believe me, take the album to Sebastian. Ask him yourself. See what he says.”
Emilia stared at Susan for a long moment. The wild, frantic look in her eyes slowly faded, replaced by something heavier—pure, crushing pain.
Tears slid down her cheeks before she could stop them.
Susan reached for a napkin and pushed it across the table.
Emilia covered her face and sobbed, her shoulders trembling. When she finally spoke again, her voice was barely a whisper. “Why didn’t you ever make his coffee the way he likes it?”
Susan stilled.
“Why didn’t you add lemon juice?” Emilia continued, words spilling out between breaths. “Why didn’t you cook seafood more often? Why didn’t you?”
Susan looked at her for a moment, then understanding flickered across her face.
She smiled knowingly. “Why would I?” she said calmly.
“Guess who else liked her coffee exactly the same way—and loved seafood just as much?” Her smile widened, almost mocking. “Did you think you were being clever? That you were doing something I never thought of?”
Her gaze held Emilia’s, the warmth in them fading, turning sharp—almost cruel. She raised a finger and pointed lightly toward Emilia’s left hand.
“He gave you that ring, didn’t he?” she said calmly. “What he didn’t tell you is that it’s exactly the same as his ex-wife’s wedding ring.”
The laughter that followed was soft but merciless.
Emilia pressed both hands to her face and cried, the sound raw and unrestrained. People nearby glanced over, then looked away.
Time passed.
But she didn’t know how much.
Eventually, she lifted her head. Her expression was hollow now, emptied of shock and tears alike.
“Why are you telling me this now?” she asked dully.
Susan drained the rest of her wine and rose from her seat. She smoothed the front of her dress, composed as ever.
“Now, where should I even begin?”
She tilted her head, as if genuinely considering it. “Should I say you shouldn’t have slept with another woman’s husband? Or should I say that once you were caught, you shouldn’t have been so quick to refuse the wife’s one—and only—request?”
She paused, then smiled faintly.
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
After a second, her gaze sharpened. “But if you’re asking my opinion, I’d say—people pay for their choices. And this?”
She gestured casually between them. “This is just a small part of the price you owe.”
With that, Susan turned without hesitation, clearly ready to leave.
Emilia pushed back her chair and stood abruptly, reaching out and grabbing Susan’s right wrist.
The movement surprised Susan.
She turned, eyebrows lifting.
Emilia’s voice was hoarse, shaking with something close to fury. “Then why would you want to sleep with someone who looks like his ex-wife?” she demanded. “She was your closest friend. What kind of twisted person does that?”
Susan looked at her for a long moment.
Then, slowly, she raised her free hand and brushed Emilia’s tear-streaked cheek with her fingertips.
“Darling,” she said, “I used to think you were just naive. I didn’t realize you were naïve and prone to overthinking.”
She met Emilia’s gaze without flinching. “Why would I want to sleep with you? What do you think?”
Her lips curved slightly. “It’s very simple. I just wanted to find out what it feels like.”
She leaned in just enough for the words to land.
“To taste what it’s like… to be with a replacement.”
