Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 149606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 499(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 499(@300wpm)
Am I never going to find out what happens to us? Is this how it all ends?
Overcome with sadness, I climb under the covers.
I miss him. I miss our game night. I love how comfy he looks when we play games—barefoot, wearing a white tee and faded sweatpants, sitting on the floor eating snacks with me. It’s one of the few things that make me feel like we’re just a normal couple at home, in love.
Unable to fall sleep, I lie in the dark and try to force myself to remember something—anything.
Nothing comes. Except a headache.
Our words from earlier are still echoing in my ears, and I can’t get them to stop. Maybe some things just shouldn’t ever be said out loud.
I close my eyes tight against the tears, and suddenly a scene like a movie starts playing in my head.
He’s sitting next to the bed, holding my hand against his damp face. I can’t see him, but I can feel him. Hear his ragged breaths.
“I miss you so much, Em. Please come back to me. I don’t want to live without you.”
He’s crying.
Searing pain rips through me.
I ache to touch him. I’m unable to move. I miss him so much—my heart is shattering.
He’s right here. I’m right here.
What’s happening to me?
Please, please…make this stop. Please let me talk.
“I love you, baby.” His lips warm on my hand, mingling with his tears. “I’m so scared, Em. I need you.”
Oh, God, please don’t let this happen.
Please, I have to tell him I love him.
Silence.
I love you! I scream. But no sound comes.
Footsteps. He’s leaving.
Please don’t go. I miss you. Don’t leave me here alone…
Gasping, I lift my head up off the pillow.
I remember! I remember him being there!
God, he was so distraught. His brokenness in those moments is still clinging to me, drifting through the haze of my brain. With it comes everything I also felt in those frozen moments—the fear, the absolute heartache and despair. The wrenching need to comfort my husband and the horror of not being able to move or speak.
My heart beats violently as the memories pebble into place—now a permanent part of me.
It all hurts. So much. Maybe some memories, like words, are better left buried.
Climbing out of bed, I steady my shaking legs before walking across the room to the window. I push it open, welcoming the cool air that breezes through the screen. As I’m sitting here trying to collect my thoughts, the bedroom door swings open. My eyes focus on his silhouette in the dark.
“I can’t sleep.” The hoarseness in his voice tells so much more. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I never can.”
His voice is exactly as it was when he cried next to my hospital bed, and I realize he’s still in that place mentally. Lonely. Scared. Helpless. Heartbroken.
“I remembered something.” Holding out my hand to him, I wait for him to join me on the cushioned window seat.
“I remember you by my bed in the hospital. You were crying, begging me to come back. You said you miss me and love me.”
His grip on my hand tightens.
“I wanted to tell you I love you, but I couldn’t. I was trapped. I couldn’t talk or move. Then you left, and I was just…” I shake my head. “Terrified.”
“Fuck.” He lets out a low breath. “That was my worst fear—that you were aware of things going on around you, but you wouldn’t be able to let us know. That you’d be scared out of your mind.”
“That’s all I remember. So I don’t know if I was like that the entire time or just sometimes.”
He looks down, his hair falling over his face, hiding his expression from me.
“I hate all of this,” he says quietly. “It absolutely kills me that you were lying there scared, and there wasn’t a fucking thing I could do.”
“At least I remembered,” I say, hoping it will make him feel a little better. “That’s good, right?”
He nods, but he still won’t look at me. “Yes. Every memory is good. Even if it hurts, I guess.”
“In a way, it took some of the emotional numbness away. That’s something I’ve been struggling with. That strange, disconnected numbness.”
Finally he raises his head, and my hope sinks at the sight of his bloodshot eyes and puffy lids.
“I know you have. I’ve seen it right from the moment you woke up.”
I’ve unknowingly ripped this man’s heart out time after time. I don’t know how he can even look at me.
I stare into his dark eyes, wishing I could somehow take all his pain away. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I didn’t—”
He touches his finger to my lips. “Shh…” he whispers. “We both said what we had to say. No need for apologies.”
“I feel bad.”
“So do I.”
“I don’t want either of us to feel sad or lonely.”