Chapter 4

"Let's go," I said to the nurse, my voice raspy but firm. I didn't look at Olivia again. I couldn't.

The nurse, a woman named Carol with kind eyes, pushed my wheelchair past them. I could feel Olivia' s stare on my back, but she didn' t say a word. She didn' t stop me. She let me go, just like she had the night before. The sound of Liam' s soft laugh followed me down the hallway.

As we waited for the elevator, I felt a tremor run through my body. It was the shock, the pain, the finality of it all. Carol put a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Are you alright, Mr. Miller?" she asked softly.

I looked up at her, a stranger who had shown me more kindness in a day than my wife had in a year. "No," I said, the word raw. "But I will be."

In that moment, a strange sense of clarity washed over me. Olivia had three chances. She had used them all up. There would not be a fourth. It was a silent vow I made to myself, a promise to protect what was left of my heart.

Over the next two days, my room was a quiet sanctuary of pain and reflection. Olivia never called. She never visited. My parents, who lived in another state, were on a cruise with limited contact, and I was glad. I didn't want their pity yet. I needed to do this alone.

On the third day, as I was slowly, painfully trying to walk with crutches in the hallway, I overheard two nurses talking at their station.

"Did you see that actress, Olivia Stone, is here again?" one said.

"Oh, for that actor, Liam Hayes, right? The one with the sprained ankle? She' s been here every day, bringing him food, reading to him. It's so romantic. You can tell she's just devoted to him."

The words floated down the sterile corridor and hit me. Devoted. She was devoted to him. While her husband lay in a hospital bed a few floors up with a shattered leg that she caused, she was playing the part of the devoted girlfriend to another man.

The crutch slipped from my sweaty palm and clattered to the floor. The sound was loud in the quiet hall. The nurses looked up, startled, and saw me. Their faces flushed with embarrassment.

I didn't say anything. I just bent down, my leg screaming in protest, and picked up the crutch. I turned around and hobbled back to my room.

There was no more pain in my heart. No more anger. Just a vast, cold emptiness.

Later that day, Carol came in to check on me. "Your parents called the front desk," she said gently. "They're back from their trip and trying to reach you. They're very worried."

I shook my head. "I'll call them later." I looked out the window at the gray city skyline. "I don't really have a family to call, Carol. Not anymore."

It was the first time I had said it out loud. The words hung in the air, solid and real. I was on my own. And for the first time since I' d woken up at the bottom of those stairs, that thought didn't scare me. It felt like freedom.