Penn,
I need a few days to think.
First, I need you to know that I love you. That’s why this hurts so much. But you are hurting me even if I don’t think you mean to. I don’t think you wake up and decide to break my heart but that doesn’t change the fact that it keeps happening.
I keep trying to understand. I tell myself you’re tired, you’re busy, you’re under pressure, you’re saving lives. I keep making excuses because I know the man you are and I know you love me.
But then something happens like the other morning and I question everything all over again.
I thought we wanted the same things. A family. I thought we were building a life together. But now I don’t know if that’s true anymore.
If you don’t want those things with me, I need you to tell me.
I’m begging you. Please, just tell me.
I can handle the truth, Penn. What I can’t handle is being shut out. I can’t keep guessing what I did wrong or wondering why my husband looks at me like he loves me and then pulls away like I’m asking for too much.
I’ve left. I’m staying with Cathy for a few days just so I can think about things. I know we need to talk but I need space because being in this house right now hurts too much.
I love you.
Aria
By the time I finish reading, I can’t breathe. I read it over and over.
And I get stuck on the part that saysYou are hurting me.
I press the paper to my chest and close my eyes. Fuck. I did this.
I knew I was hurting her. I knew it every time she looked at me and tried to smile or tried to act like everything was okay when we both knew it wasn’t. I did the last thing I ever wanted to do: I hurt her, and I did it so badly that she had to leave.
I drop the note on the bed and turn toward the closet. Her side is still mostly full, but not all of it. A few empty hangers sway when I push through her clothes. Her favorite jeans are gone. Some shirts. A couple dresses. Her overnight bag is missing from the shelf.
I move to the bathroom next.
Her toothbrush is gone.
So is the face cream she keeps beside the sink. Her brush. Her shampoo from the shower. I grip the edge of the counter and stare at the empty space where her things should be, and my heart feels like it’s breaking.
I try to suck in a breath, and when my legs feel weak, I lower myself to the floor. I stare at the tiles, fighting back the tears. My wife has left me. Oh, she says it’s not forever, but as soon as she finds out what I’ve been hiding from her, she will no doubt leave me for good. Every part of me wants to go after her and bring her home where she belongs.
But I know if I do, I’m going to promise to be better and then keep hiding the truth from her. Maybe this is for the best.
Maybe she needs to be away from me to see that she wants more than I can give her. Maybe this is the beginning of her choosingthe life she deserves. And honestly, if anyone deserves a family with kids, it’s Aria. Fuck, she deserves it so much.
I look down at my hands. I’ve saved lives, fixed broken bones—hell, I’ve held hearts in my hands. But I can’t hold on to my wife.
I press the heels of my hands to my eyes, but the tears come anyway. I’m usually able to keep myself together and the emotions locked in, but when it comes to losing Aria, there’s nothing calm or collected about it. I sit here on the bathroom floor and cry for the woman I love.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and for one stupid second, hope shoots through me. I pull it out fast. It’s not Aria. It’s the hospital. The last thing I want to do is answer it, but I’m the doctor on call and there are literal lives at stake. I push the answer button and put the phone to my ear. “Yeah.”
“Sorry, I know you just left, but we can’t reach Dr. Cline and?—”
I cut the nurse off. “I’ll be right there.”
I hang up the phone, throw some water on my face, pack a bag of clothes because I can’t see myself staying here if Aria isn’t here, and then walk back outside to my car.
As I settle into the driver’s seat, I pull out my phone and type out a text to Aria.
