Rooftop Edge, A New Life Began

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hrill condemnations, my parents' desperate entreaties to stay, to not ruin "our lives." It all pressed in, suffocatin

word ripping through my throat,

even more deafening than the noise. I felt a dizzying wave wash over me. The floor seemed to tilt, the

he crisp sheets, the IV drip in my arm – it was all too familiar. A nurse, her face kind but tired, checked my vitals.

I reached for my phone, which surprisingly was still in my pocket. Th

g, leaning against him, her hand casually resting on his arm. The caption read:

as still with her. Still parading her, ev

ther post from Charity's public profile: a selfie, her lips pursed in a mocking pout. The caption: "Some people just can't t

ur emotional state is concerning. We've arranged for a consultation with a psychiatrist." She spoke gently, h

raught. He said he'll do anything to make it up to you. Please, don't throw away your marriage. He's such a good provi

on't ruin our family's reputation. And about children... my family has a long line of sons. It's important for the blood

miss you, baby. I'm so sorry. I lov

eading through me. They were all playing their part

r. My breath hitched. It was a video.

a convenient project. Someone to 'save.' But he always came back to me. Every single time. And those names you love so much? Charis and Donny? The

am. My vision blurred again, but this time, it wasn't collapsing. It was a cold, calculated cl

s steady now. I typed a reply t

on. He saw something in me no one else did. I had thought he was my dream, my savior. In our first apartment, he' d painted a mural of a sprawli

hours ticked by, slow and agonizing. I knew he would

iting for your knight in shining armor? He's a little busy righ

ss. I looked out the hospital window. It was high up, the city lights twinkling far below. I could see the

iting at my exposed skin. My phone buzzed in my hand.

ne, the words feeling forei

stling sound. "Danae? What a

ce steady, calm. "You wanted to se

ror. "Danae! No! Don't you dare!" His voice was a stra

on the oak tree below, its sturdy branches reaching up, promising a softer landing. My eyes were wide open,

et