The surgery lasted until three in the morning. The doctor said it was a success. A few days of observation and he could go home to rest.
I didn't sleep at all. Not until my husband opened his eyes the next morning.
He saw my bloodshot eyes, and pain flickered across his face.
"Where's Summer? Didn't you call her to come help you?"
I turned my head away and said nothing.
The entire night, Summer hadn't made a single call. Hadn't sent a single message.
My husband studied my expression and seemed to piece it together on his own.
"That ungrateful wretch."
I pressed my hand gently against his chest.
"The doctor said you can't get worked up right now. Please, don't."
He let out a long breath. "Tell me something. Should we have never taken her in?"
I turned to pour him a glass of water.
"She... wasn't like this when she was little."
He took the glass and scoffed.
"That's because when she was little, we hadn't gotten in the way of anything she wanted yet."
"Now she's married. In her mind, she drew the line between us a long time ago. All she cares about is Desmond and his family."
He took a sip of water and paused.
"I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree after all."