Page 43 of Medical Malpractice

“I need… space. I need time to think.”

“Ella… Ella.” That’s all my laboured breath would allow.

Gabriella soon rose to her feet and pivoted away, ensuring not one particle of her came in contact with me.

I stared into the space where she once sat, searching for redemption that would not come.

Then my wife’s voice managed to penetrate the void. “The girls are at Daisy’s, and I’m going to join them. I-I’ll be in touch.”

I thought we had kept the noise to a minimum so as not to wake the girls. Instead, I realised they weren’t even home.

The last of my energy drained out of me, knowing I was truly going to be left on my own.

“I would give my life for you. For our family. I’m going to fight for us, Ella,” I vowed.

“I hope you do, Leo. I really hope you do.”

I subconsciously heard the front door shut, the distant sound of a car pulling away, and then I was fully enveloped in a sinister darkness of my own creation. My fears became reality.

What have I done?

Chapter 25

LEONARDO

I rubbed sweaty palms down my jeans before I tentatively raised a fist to knock on the front door.

After two days without my girls, of course I was getting jittery. I could only hold off exhaustion for so long, which meant I was running on pure caffeine.

When Gabriella had left me kneeling on our living room floor, I was immediately adrift, unsure on what to do or how to proceed. To clear my head, I had a long, pitiful shower, my useless tears adding to the torrent of water.

When I flopped onto my bed—that smelt of my wife—I immediately checked my phone.

Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

My thumb hovered over her contact.

For the first time in our marriage, I was unsure. I didn’t want to bulldoze her, but I didn’t want Gabriella to believe I wasn’t thinking about her either. She was all I could fucking think about.

I desperately wanted to press her number, send a million voicemails and messages—begging, pleading, apologising.

Would she find my reaching out disrespectful? Take any form of contact as a slight for not giving her the space she specifically requested? Or would she take silence as a sign of me giving up? That I wasn’t invested enough to fight for us, for our marriage?

In the end, after thirty minutes of contemplation, I sent a text, choosing a safe topic that was equally important.

Tell the girls I love them.

And miss them.

Give them a big kiss for me.

Then, I spiralled.

That doesn’t mean I don’t miss you, too.

Because I do.

So fucking much.