His Regret, My Unbought Freedom

ie

s. Another night, another fight for my life. The doctors had worked through the night, pulling me

efeated. His eyes were red-rimmed, his suit rumpled. His prese

e? Why didn't you take your medication? You almost

my voice raspy. "When I w

. I had to be there for her. For the baby." The same old excuse, the same old

. It wasn't the sharp, piercing pain of betrayal anymore, just a weary numbness

ge of adrenaline, I grabbed the small bag of tranquilizers he had swapped for my allergy medication. With all my strength, I hu

then back at me, his face pale, a flicker of guilt in hi

ce trembling with rage. "You replaced my life-savi

c plea. "I... I just wanted to make sure you didn't do anything reckless. Harper w

, the pieces clicking into place. "She a

for the baby. She said you were too unstable, that you would hurt yourself

Unstable? Reckless? Or just inconvenient?" I choked, the laughter

ching for mine. "Allie, please. Don't sa

d in. "Mr. Dalton, Harper is look

slumping. "I'll be right there." He gave me one last, lingering look, his eyes full of a mixture of regret and something

st an excuse for his absence. Everyone told me to be patient, to endure, that he would come back. They said love was worth

signer clothes, rare jewelry, exotic flowers. A parade of nurses, their

whispered, rearranging a bouquet of crimson

as buying absolution. These were reparations, a desperate attempt to erase his guilt, to smooth over his crimes w

ou up from the hospital tomorrow. We're going to tal

ched into an hour. He wasn't there. He never was. Just as the familiar ach

r me. A primal scream tore from my throat as the world spun, and I was thrown backwards, my body hitting the pavement with a

sped, my voice

an emergency room. Again. The cycle of pain, betrayal, and near-death. Th

ow and cold. "Make sure her recovery is... prolong

sistant probably, asked hesitantly. "This se

a fury I had never heard before. "She threatened our baby.

ad done this to me. The mugging, the shattered legs, the agonizing

ears. He had tried to kill me. Not once, but twice. And he had succeeded

bs. There was nothing left. No love, no hope, no future. Just a gaping wound where my heart us