perception-became my shadow. He brought me flowers, read to me from books I didn't care for, and tried

d one afternoon, his voice laced with force

ed, my gaze fixed on the hospital window.

n. But I was never really his wild c

red to challenge him. "Shut up, Clarissa!" h

ire weekend "to cool off," taking my phone so I couldn't "embarrass him." I had panicked, feeling the walls closing in. He had been so remorseful t

e physical pain, the endless fertility treatments.

arted, when I called him in te

d bathroom floor. And when he finally returned, he didn't cry for them. He didn

red the last fragile t

ed up, Clarissa," he pleaded, tears glistening in his eyes. "I should have answered the

back what was gone. The tiny heartbeats, the dreams we'd wove

washing over me. "Go do whatever it is you have to d

t me, a question in his

voice flat. "I'm not angry

had kept off for the last two days. The moment it powered on, it exploded with notifications.

to the door. "Something's come up. An emergency at

m satisfaction settling in my ch

ion. A picture of her looking distraught, clinging to some executive from Colet

foreign and heavy. I walked to the open window and, without a second thought, tossed it out. It glitte