The Chef's Stolen Life

the bed was empty and cold. Ethan was already gone, probably off to start his day, a day that included my slow, methodical destruction. A profound loneliness sett

f the bed, my left leg, the one that had taken the worst of the crash, throbbing with a dull,

lity. I needed to get to my laptop, to book a ticket, to contact that clinic in Switz

forward, my hands flailing for something to grab onto. I hit the floor hard, my sh

ng. Tears of frustration and pain welle

a tray with a glass of orange juice and a single red

opping the tray with a clatter

m and strong on my arms. The touch wa

d, my voice tight

g into his concerned tone. "You know you're not strong enough yet. You should have c

practiced. He fussed over me, checking my hip and shoulder

still cause me pain, even accidentally. My mind was a fortress, and I was reinforcing its walls, brick by painful brick.

fallen rose. "I was going to surprise you." He gestured to the kitchen. "I

. He said it so casually, so easily. It was

erfume on his clothes sometimes. The way Bethany would look at him across the dinner table, a look I had always mistaken for s

ed over me. I felt the bile rise in my throat. I t

rong?" Ethan asked,

d out. "Just feeli

ving, but nothing came up. It was a sickness of the soul, a revulsion so deep it was twisting my insides. I splashed c

s sitting on the edge of the bed,

I said, my

y's parents are having a small family dinner tonight to celebrate her no

t of me. They wanted me there as a prop, the tragic sister, a l

r it, Ethan," I said, my

. To Bethany. She feels terrible about what happened to you.

it. He wanted me to go and watch the woman who stole my

mance, and I had to give one of my own. If I refused, he'd be s

out a long, weary sigh

across his face. "Thank you,

ly so his lips landed on my cheek. "I'm just going t

"Of course. Get some rest. I'll c

g to be my own personal hell. But it was also an opportunity. An opportunity to see them all together, to watc