The Chef's Lie, Her Scars
arpent
unded, a dull throb behind his eyes, a phantom pain from the blood donation. He remembered the anger, the
see Casey, still frail and recove
ne, almost detached. My arm, still bandaged, rested on my knee. I had c
ricked at him. He remembered his words last night, his accusation, his pu
raspy, unsure. "What
devoid of the hurt or anger he expected. "I came to check on you, Collin. To make sure you
, accusations, a scene. Not this. This controlled, almost
lf up slightly. "Just a little lig
voice still even. "The nurses said
was stressed, you know, with the Golden Spoon, and Casey's accident... I wasn't thinking clearly. You
e was no warmth, no reciprocation. Just an empty contact.
as acceptance, forgiveness. A wave of relief washed over him.
ightened, a possessive squeeze. "I really do love you. You know that, ri
owever, remained cold, observing him with a chilling clarity. H
derlying current he didn't detect. "I always have.
om the adjacent room, Casey's. "Co
look of concern returned to his face, erasing the fleeting relief. "She needs me," he murmu
as gone, a blur of frantic devoti
eyes. It was over. Truly over. The last sliver of hope, the last thread of
f a dead marriage. My personal effects, the few things I had left, were gone. He ha
ematically deleted every digital footprint, every email, every photo, every social med
visibly satisfied. He found me, once again, o
ender in his eyes. "Didn't want to leave you alone tonight. Casey needed me, but you're
ume, a sickening cocktail. "I was worried about you," he a
terrupted, my voice flat
out Casey, about her recovery, about how "fragile" she was. He spoke of new baby clothes he'd bought, tiny onesies, blankets – all for the twins
looking so... distant... I thought I'd lost you. But you're still here. You're my rock, my steady anchor."
my world, my love, my partner. He was a stranger, a hollow shell of ambition and
r Casey. That was real. That was for her. I was just a means to
I was free. I had always been stronger than h
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