Days later, Bradley rushed over.

I sat outside the emergency room.

He looked at me with a mix of suspicion and guilt, holding a bouquet of flowers.

“Honey, I know I was wrong. I just didn’t realize our son was suffering so deeply.”

“Why would he want to die?”

I scoffed. “Didn’t you just come from Sarah’s room? Your mind is all on her—what do you even care about your son?”

He mumbled an apology, but to his surprise, he was brushed aside; irritation flared within him, and he shouted in frustration.

“Alison! I’ve apologized—what more do you want? Are you just trying to push me further?”

He couldn't muster...