working in his study. I’d been pacing outside
with a bowl of soup.
The smell had made me nauseous.
He’d thrown the bowl, and I’d cut my finger
on the broken pieces. The wound wouldn’t
clot.
At the gala, I’d been nauseous and couldn’t
get up.
He’d thought I was being dramatic, faking.
The nausea was morning sickness; the
bleeding, leukemia.
<
- 5.
“Why didn’t you say anything?!” His yell
shook the IV stand.
He ripped off the heart monitor leads, as if he
could rewind time.
Me, in the kitchen at 5 a.m., making herbal
remedies.
Me, waiting for him in the garage during a
storm, clutching a thermos of soup.
Me, repeatedly asking for help, only to be
misunderstood and pushed away.
“Where is she? I need to see her!”
In the morgue, Ethan stood before my body,
covered in a white sheet. He hesitated, lifting
a corner, revealing my swollen, disfigured
face.
“Sarah, didn’t you want to see me? I’m here.”
<
“Stop playing games, open your eyes…”
The morgue was silent. His fingertips hovered
over her swollen eyelids.
He saw the dark red cracks in her blood
vessels, his eyes burning.
His assistant arrived, seeing Ethan burying his
face in my neck.
“Who? Who did this to her?!”
Ethan roared, gripping the sheet.
“Mr. Reed, we found Ms. Hayes in security
footage, they seemed to have argued…”
He saw Willow pushing me in the stairwell;
the next shot showed her in the room,
threatening me to sign.
“Willow… how…?”
He didn’t believe it. He called Willow, his
knuckles white.
く
Willow’s sweet voice answered. “Ethan, I
made you pear soup…
“Where were you last Wednesday
afternoon?”
He cut her off, eyes fixed on the security
footage. The timestamp was 3:23 PM.
Willow laughed. “At the nail salon, remember?
You laughed about me getting nail polish…”
Ethan punched the window, shattering the
glass.
