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Knowing Lyric won’t let it go, I start from the day I met Ameline. Lyric didn’t know I had taken her to dinner or for ice cream. I obviously simplify everything. The way our friendship flourished—our texts, the times I would visit her at work with the excuse that I wanted to buy some books or was around the area. Then, her mother’s call and how she found out about her biological father.
In the meantime, I prepare a tea latte for Ameline and breakfast. Lyric still doesn’t move from the door, and Ameline is fuming. Yet, she accepts the drink from me, and I’m able to remove the backpack from her shoulder. The plate with food remains on the island but I hope she’ll soon go and fetch it.
Lyric’s eyes widen when I tell her about the tumor and how I decided to marry Ameline, and she sits down on the floor against the door when I tell her about our quick wedding and the honeymoon. I’m impressed that she doesn’t interrupt me once.
When I get to the part where Ameline died, Ame frowns and looks at me. “I, what?”
Chapter Eight
Gabriel
(Then)
Jude and I enter the viewing gallery overlooking the operating room. The angle gives me a clear view of the procedure, of the doctors leaning over the woman I love. My palms turn clammy. I want to pace but force myself still, watching intently.
Everything seems to be going alright when suddenly things begin to change. The heart rate monitor flatlines, and panic seizes my chest. I rush to the glass and knock sharply. “Save her!” My shout comes out hoarse. Don’t take her from me. We need more time. I slide to the floor as grief threatens to crush me. Jude crouches next to me, saying something I can’t hear over the ringing in my ears.
I’ve lost her. The reality of it hits me like a physical blow.
She’s gone.
She’s gone.
My wife is gone.
We just married and now . . . now my future has been ripped away. Our plans for a family, growing old together, gone.
Numbness spreads through me. I let Jude pull me to my feet and guide me out of the viewing gallery. His hand is firm on my arm. I’m barely aware of my surroundings, my thoughts consumed by shock and grief.
Ameline died.
The woman I love more than anything in the world just . . . left me.
We’d dreamed of the life we would have together after her surgery—marriage, children, growing old side by side. Now, all of that is lost.
Our future is destroyed, cruelly snatched away.
I feel hollow, as if my insides have been gouged out. I want to scream and rage. To somehow turn back time.
Mostly, I just want her back.
Jude says something, but his voice sounds muffled, as if I were underwater. I shake my head helplessly. Words fail me. We turn a corner, and the double doors to the operating room come into view up ahead. I plant my feet, forcing Jude to stop. He turns, questions in his eyes.
“I can’t leave her,” I rasp out.
Jude squeezes my shoulder. “I know, man. But there’s nothing we can do, you have to let her go.”
Let her go. As if it’s that easy. As if my whole world hasn’t just imploded.
Jude tugs gently on my arm, urging me forward. After a long moment, I allow him to lead me down the hall. Each step away from her feels like walking on broken glass.
I’ve lost the love of my life.
* * *
Jude guides me down the hospital corridor, each fluorescent light we pass under feels like a spotlight shining on my grief. I want to curl into a ball and disappear.
“Come on, man,” Jude says softly. “Let’s get you home.”
