Eight Losses, One Last Hope

of thorns, my mind a churning sea of betrayal and fear. Every time I cl

ead of night, the

shadow fell across the room, a

as A

ething uniquely him, filled my senses. It was a scent

oice a low rumble in the darkness. He touch

I flinched away

used to hold me like this every night, his arms a cage I had mistaken for a home. Tonight, my heart was a stone in my chest, cold and

to put distance bet

tening around my waist, pulling me

a lazy confidence toward the tattoo over my he

zzying. This mark, once a symbol of my undying love, now

rve and sensitive spot. His hand moved with an

whispered, my voice

hip. His touch was clinical, practiced, and utterly

s if nothing had changed. As if his "true love" w

t his weight settle

," he said, his tone

, all that pain, and it didn't even register. To him, my body was just a calendar, a

I pushed against his chest, my voice la

our fiancée? I'm sure Gi

did

in his body going taut. For a long moment, he didn' t move. Then, he roll

tte against the moonlight s

cold. He walked out of the room without anot

tray. On it was a bowl of fish soup, the kind he k

irst times he' d done it. I was sixteen, struggling with a piece of cod, and he had taken my plate without a

small kindnesses that had m

ikes. He knew me better than anyone. And he didn

ted. A wave of nausea, stronger this time, crashed over me. I scramb

with dry heaves. There was not

looked up. Aidan was standing in t

in?" he asked, his vo

urned ghost-white. This was it. This was the moment he w

him straight in the eye, praying he couldn't see the

nse, searching, and for a terrifying second, I thought he could see right t

replaced by something I couldn't read. Relief

d, his voice clipped.

eave, then pau

re getting marr

nal nail in the cof

singly calm. I was numb. There

pected tears, pleading. He had expected the broken gi

avy with a weariness that went bone-deep

le. "Congratulations. I hope yo

send a gift. A generous one. It was the least I coul