The next morning, when I woke up, the bed beside me was already cold. I told myself he had urgent business. That was normal, right?
But now? Now I know. He wasn’t busy. He was running to her. Always her.
Amber finished peeling the apple and finally handed it to me. “Here.”
I didn’t take it.
She didn’t mind. She just set it down beside me and looked at me with that same soft, harmless expression.
“You’re really kind, Ms. Hereford,” she said gently. “Staying by his side all these years, taking care of him like that.”
Her eyes lingered on me, something unreadable passing through them.
“But some things…” she added quietly, “no matter how hard you try, they just don’t belong to you.”
I lowered my gaze to my hand, the IV needle still buried in my skin.
Yeah.
I think I finally understood that.
…
After I got discharged, I went home and packed everything quietly. Clothes. Jewelry. Things I barely touched. Things I once thought mattered. I didn’t take much. What was the point? I was just waiting. Waiting for the divorce to finalize. Waiting for it all to end.