Then, one night, I smelled something floral and expensive clinging to Tyler’s shirt. A scent that didn’t belong in our home. “Do you think Charlotte might be taking advantage of your kindness?” I asked, the words cutting my throat like glass.
Tyler looked genuinely sh0cked. “Taking advantage? Hannah, she’s being tormented by her ex.
She needs support.”
“She has a therapist. And parents nearby.”
“But she trusts me,” he said, as if that trust outweighed our vows. Rain poured the next Thursday as I left for a work dinner.
My phone sat in the cup holder, silent, while I rehearsed excuses for his inevitable absence. At Fifth and Madison, a truck damned through a red light. My last thought before impact was, He isn’t stopping.
The crash folded metal into bone. My wedding ring shimmered with bl00d I couldn’t comprehend as mine. I woke under the yellowed ceiling tiles of Riverside General.
Dr. Webb shoved my dislocated shoulder back into place with a jolt that split me open. Patricia, a nurse with tired, kind eyes, hovered near.
