Chapter 4

It was strange. Celeste was the one who had told me to drink, and yet she was the one panicking.

My stomach burned, every breath was a struggle, and red welts were spreading across my skin. Everyone at the table looked shaken.

Celeste held me up, her fingers trembling as she dialed for an ambulance. "Did you do this just to spite me? You knew you couldn't drink, so why did you? You win, okay? I forgive you. We can have another wedding. We'll do it over."

I could not make out the rest. All I remembered was being lifted onto a stretcher. Everything in front of me blurred.

Celeste had said she forgave me. For five years, that was all I had been waiting to hear. Somehow, now that I finally had, all I felt was tired.

My voice came out raw and barely there. "There's no need."

Celeste pressed close, leaning near my mouth, trying to catch what I was saying.

I steadied my breathing and managed one more sentence. "If you want, we can get a divorce."

Celeste's eyes went wide, filled with shock and fury. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

I was already unconscious.

…

When I woke up again, it was the next day. The hospital room was empty and quiet. My phone was buzzing on the bedside table.

There were over a dozen missed calls, all from other people. I picked up the first one, and the voice on the other end was frantic.

"What's going on with you and Celeste? She went and took wedding portraits with Kieran Vance. Are you two divorced? How could you not tell anyone about something this big?"

The voice was loud enough to send a sharp throbbing through my temples.

Celeste's social accounts were still public to me. Her latest post was pinned at the top. It was her wedding portrait with Kieran, and there was a single caption underneath: [I'm still waiting for you.]

My fingers hovered over the screen. Tears fell without warning, landing on the screen and beading up on the surface.

I was crying, yet I did not feel sad at all. The weight I had been carrying for five years had finally shattered, and for the first time, everything felt light.

The door to the hospital room swung open. It was my therapist.

"Mr. Hartley, what a coincidence. I just spoke with your attending physician, and he says you're fine now. Today happens to be the right day for your third round of treatment."

I glanced down at my phone one last time, then turned off the screen. "Alright."

Before I went into the operating room, Celeste called. "Everett, I'm at the studio right now. If you want to..."

"Mr. Hartley, the procedure is about to start. We'll hold onto your phone for now."

Celeste's voice faltered on the other end. Then, it rose sharply. "Procedure? What procedure?"

The call cut off before she could finish. The doors to the operating room closed, inch by inch. This time, I was the one letting go first.