He Chose Power, I Chose Love

shattered my hand. For five years, I endured the pain and supported his political a

manager, Kassidy. He was selling our theater to fund his

next, captioned "#PowerCouple." He denied me money for a new physical therapy

"best asset." I wa

ve to him; it was a "choice" I m

la, when he thought I was at home waiting

ater he tried t

pte

Keith

r from my lungs. "The theater is going to be sold, Gra

precise, cut through the quiet. Graham' s reply was a low murmur, but I didn't need to hear it clearly to understand. The

amed every time I tried to forget. I remembered the screech of tires, the blinding headlights, the split second I swerve

hand too often on his arm. I' d seen it, but I' d ignored it. I' d told myself it was just part of his politic

n't worry, darling. You'll make so much more than that in the Senate. A dusty old buildi

. It was all a distraction to him. My eyes burne

too casual, too easy. "Right.

d of performing again, even with my shattered hand. He was talking about it like it was just ano

one shifting, sounding almost co

y breath, waiting. Hoping. For what, I didn't

voice flat. "She always does. She knows what t

he one that left me with chronic pain and a future I hadn't planned, was reduced to a mere

' s. She answered, her voice immediately dropping to

r office, in our home. My vision blurred for a seco

g, then Kassidy's delighted gasp. "Oh, Gr

e one that cost a little extra, the one that might actually give me some relief. He'd t

led. His voice was warm, intimate, a tone I had

istinction sliced through me. It wasn't just the theater, it wasn't just my h

excuse. I was nothing more than an inconvenient shadow. The realization was devastating, yet strangely liberating. It was the clarity that comes after a long, painful fog. My pain in my h

My role had been played, and he was ready for the next act, with a different leading lady. The