His Obsession, Her Second Life

onitor and the smell of antiseptic. My side

e was holding my hand, his grip tight even in sleep. He looked exha

When he saw I was awake, relief washed over his f

squeezed my hand. "I' m so

ter every screaming match, every broken dish, every brui

d have been racing with fear or anger, felt

ed. It wasn' t, but it wa

ng him look younger. "I' ll m

l, he was the model of devotion. He fed me, read to me, and held my hand, whispering promises of how th

A beautiful, tem

hospital as if I were made of glass. He settled me int

g at me periodically, his brow furrowed

mansion. Instead, he pulled up in

ng here?" I aske

f his friends swarmed the car, th

se!" th

y recovery. They gushed about how worried he' d been,

ghost of the old warmth, but it

corated lavishly. Thousands of flowers fil

oudly, gesturing at the sea of white blo

rs. My favorite flower was the simple, bright freesia. He had known th

gesture, was based on a lie. J

d an arm around my shoulders, beaming.

s. Declan stayed glued to my side, his hand possessively on m

anymore. I excused myself to the r

allway outside our private room. I could h

at therapist, Christie?" one of them

myself against the

gether all the time. You' re n

ident. "Of course not. Emily is the one I' m going to m

y gut. Fresh. Was that

ther friend warned. "If Emily

sound. "Emily? She' d never le

e old Emily, the one who loved him, would never have left. But

ce and walked back into the roo

when the door to t

, burning with a cold fir