**September 21, 2023**
Lucy didn’t hear the squeak of the hospital trolley wheels against the linoleum or the hurried footsteps. Her head swayed slightly with the movement, unseeing. She didn’t register the fluorescent lights flashing above her or James’ desperate shouts: “Lucy! Lucy!” She didn’t see the doctor blocking his path.
“You can’t go in. Wait here.”
James slumped onto the interlinked chairs outside the ICU, elbows digging into his knees, face buried in his hands. None of it reached her. She was caught in a rushing current of light, wishing only for it to stop—for quiet to swallow her whole.
***
She had performed in a short comedy sketch at the university’s International Women’s Day event, playing a woefully unprepared student trying to bluff her way through an exam. The audience roared with laughter, erupting in applause. Later, during the dancing, James asked her for a waltz.
“You were brilliant—like a proper actress,” he said, his admiration genuine as he gazed at her.
“I wasn’t even supposed to be up there. Emily panicked last minute and bolted. I was shaking so badly I forgot my lines and made half of it up.” Lucy’s eyes still glowed with nervous excitement.
“Could’ve fooled me. You sounded like a pro. Maybe you missed your calling.”
After the dance, he walked her back to her dormitory and shyly kissed her cheek. James still lived with his parents. Within a month, they rented a tiny room from an elderly widow near campus. He’d fought his parents tooth and nail, but they’d relented, agreeing to support the young couple.
The old woman next door was hard of hearing, but they still played music just in case. Lucy would always remember those months as the happiest of her life.
“I love you,” James would whisper afterward, breathless against her skin.
“No, I love you more,” Lucy would murmur, pressing her cheek to his damp chest.
“Impossible. I love you ten times more.”
They reveled in the game. Later, they’d dream aloud—finishing university, buying a proper house, having children.
“A girl first, then a boy,” Lucy insisted.
“And another boy after,” James added, kissing her.
They were certain no one had ever loved as deeply as they did.
Classmates envied them; lecturers smiled wistfully, remembering their own youthful passion. How many couples just like them had they seen come and go?
After graduation, Lucy and James worked at an NHS dental clinic before moving to a private practice run by James’ godfather. Two years later, he opened a second branch and made James its manager.
Money was never an issue. His parents helped with the house deposit. True to plan, Lucy had a daughter first, then a son three years later.
Weekends often meant the children staying with their grandparents, leaving Lucy and James free to sleep in and steal quiet moments. A picture-perfect family—what more could anyone want?
Once their son started primary school, Lucy wanted to return to work. She was tired of being home and terrified of losing her skills.
“Why?” James protested. “I earn enough. Stay with the kids. Let’s have another baby—we’ll manage. Mum and Dad adore them.”
But this time, Lucy couldn’t conceive. She blamed herself, spiraling into anxiety, visiting doctors who found nothing wrong.
“Stop worrying,” James said firmly. “If we had no children, I’d understand, but we’ve got two perfect ones. There’s no reason to panic.”
She tried to let go—but the longing for work returned.
“I won’t hire you at the clinic,” James said bluntly. “Husband and wife working together is unprofessional. Besides, you’ve been out of practice for seven years. No one would take you.”
The arguments began. With the children at his parents’, Lucy drowned in free time. One evening, she drank wine to numb the emptiness, then passed out on the sofa. By morning, James hadn’t come home. When she finally reached him, his voice was cold.
“You didn’t come back last night.”
“I did. You were too drunk to notice.” The disdain in his tone stung.
“I had one glass! But what else is there for me? You won’t let me work, the children are with your parents—”
“I’ll call them now. Enough. I’m busy.” He hung up.
Lucy hurled her phone against the wall, watching it shatter.
When had it all unraveled? Everything had been perfect. Now their marriage lay in pieces, just like the phone. She paced the house, rearranging objects, fighting the urge to drink. But when the children weren’t returned by nightfall, she gave in.
She woke to James arriving home—well-rested, crisp shirt, not a trace of exhaustion.
“You look refreshed. Doesn’t seem like you’ve been working or sleeping at the office. That’s a new shirt, isn’t it?” She watched his face carefully.
He ignored her. Then, as if pushed, she asked:
“Are you cheating on me? Is that why you wouldn’t let me work? So I wouldn’t notice?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Are you drunk again?”
“One glass, and suddenly I’m an alcoholic?”
The fight escalated until James admitted it—there was someone else. He dreaded coming home. Didn’t want to see her.
Lucy slapped him. He raised his hand—then struck her.
The pain in her jaw was nothing compared to the shattering of her heart.
He’d hit her. The same man who once whispered sweet nothings in a cramped room, who’d argued playfully over who loved the other more. They had the house, the children—but the love was gone.
She tore off her wedding ring, flung it out the window. Then she saw—his finger was bare.
Her throat locked. She couldn’t breathe.
“I’m tired of you,” James spat. “Look at yourself. You’re a mess. I wouldn’t trust you with the children. You’re just a drunk, hysterical—”
The words bludgeoned her. The room tilted, then went black.
***
She woke to antiseptic smells, the beep of machines. Something pressed against her ribs, forcing air into her lungs.
“Lucy! Can you hear me?” James’ voice was distant.
She tried to speak. Nothing came out.
“You’re in hospital. Your heart stopped.” His face was a mix of fear and relief.
She saw the white ceiling. Not dead, then.
“You’re safe now.” He squeezed her hand—and darkness swallowed her again.
The next time she woke, breathing was agony.
“James,” she rasped.
“I’m here.” His grip tightened.
Memories flooded back—the shattered phone, the fight, the ring flying into the night.
“The ring,” she whispered.
“Which one?”
“My wedding ring.”
“You threw it away. Don’t worry, I’ll buy you another.”
“Yours.”
He frowned, then held up his hand—gold gleaming on his finger.
“Enough. She needs rest.” A needle pierced her arm.
Each day, her strength returned. A week later, James took her home—thinner, weaker—to their spacious house.
“Mummy! You’re back!” The children clung to her.
At dinner, she barely ate.
“Who cooked?” she asked suddenly.
“My mother. She brought the kids this morning. You’re tired—off you go, children.”
Alone, silence stretched between them.
Could their love be salvaged? Lucy didn’t know. The house was in his name. She had no job, no means to leave. Would he keep cheating? Did he regret anything?
“I was terrified,” James said suddenly. “I’m sorry. I—I’ve been thinking. When you’re stronger, you can work at the clinic. One of our dentists left. You could start as an assistant, ease back in.”
They sat, both wondering the same thing—could love be rebuilt? Each waiting for the other to move first.
