Chapter 3

I started scrolling.

Are you serious? His own wife?

I always thought Dr. Colton was such a good man. I guess I was wrong.

Poor Maren. She's always been so sweet.

He was buying stuff for SIENNA while his wife was dying? What the actual hell?

I won't be using him as my doctor anymore. I don't care if he's the only OB in town.

That's not a husband. That's a monster.

Five hundred and twelve comments. And I read every single one.

Each one felt like a knife. But not the kind that hurt me.

The kind that cut him.

"Everyone knows," I said.

Betty nodded. "Everyone."

"Good."

She looked surprised. "Good?"

"He made his choice in front of twenty people," I said. "They have a right to talk about it."

My voice sounded strange. Flat. Empty.

Betty squeezed my hand. "Honey, you've been through hell. You don't have to be strong right now."

"I'm not being strong." I looked at her. "I'm just tired."

Mrs. Henderson came to visit that afternoon. She brought flowers. Yellow roses. My favorite.

"I hope you don't mind that I posted," she said, settling into the visitor's chair. "But people needed to know."

"I don't mind."

"The responses have been..." She shook her head. "Let's just say your husband isn't very popular right now."

I almost laughed. Almost.

"How's Sienna?" I asked.

Mrs. Henderson's face soured. "Fine. Healthy baby girl. She went home yesterday." She paused. "Colton drove her."

Of course he did.

"And the baby?" I asked. "My baby?"

"Still in NICU. But doing well. Betty says another few days and you can take him home."

Him. I had a son.

I hadn't seen him yet. Hadn't held him. The nurses said I needed to recover first. Get my strength back.

I wanted to argue. Wanted to demand to see him.

But I was so tired.

The next few days blurred together. Nurses checking vitals. Betty bringing me food I couldn't eat. Jake stopping by with a stuffed dog. "For the little guy," he said.

Sarah Mitchell came too. She stood in the doorway like she wasn't sure she was allowed in.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry," she said. "For high school. For everything."

"It's fine."

"It's not fine. I was awful to you. And then when you needed blood..." She looked at her hands. "I'm glad I could help."

"Thank you for that."

She nodded and left. I watched her go and wondered if near-death experiences made everyone nicer.

On the fourth day, Colton came.

I heard him before I saw him. His voice in the hallway, talking to a nurse. That smooth, confident tone he used with everyone.

Then he was in my doorway. Perfectly pressed button-down. Khakis. Hair combed. He was holding flowers. Red roses. Not my favorite. He'd never remembered that.

"Maren," he said. "How are you feeling?"

I looked at him. Really looked at him.

This was my husband. The man I'd loved for three years. The man I'd married. The man I was carrying a child for.

The man who'd left me to die.

"I'm alive," I said. "If that's what you're asking."

"I know you're upset—"

"Upset?" The word came out sharp. "That's an interesting choice."

He stepped into the room. Set the flowers on the table. Pulled up the chair.

"I need you to understand," he said. "I was making a medical judgment. Sienna's heart condition—"

"I'm tired," I said.

He blinked. "What?"

"I'm tired, Dr. Whitmore. I need to rest."

Dr. Whitmore. Not Colton. Not honey. Not my husband's name.

His name tag name. His professional name.

He noticed. I saw it register on his face.

"Maren—"

"Please leave."

"We need to talk about this."

"No," I said. I turned my head toward the window. "We don't."

I heard him stand. Heard the chair scrape. Heard him pick up the flowers.

"I'll come back," he said. "When you're feeling better."

I didn't answer.

I listened to his footsteps fade down the hall. Listened to him say something to a nurse. Listened to the silence after he was gone.

Only then did I let myself breathe.

They discharged me a week later. Ten days after the accident. The baby was still in NICU but stable. The doctors said he'd be ready to go home in another week.

Betty helped me pack my things. The few personal items I had. My phone. The stuffed dog from Jake.

"You need a ride?" she asked.

"My car's still at the—" I stopped. The car. The accident. "Actually, I don't know where my car is."

"Totaled," Betty said gently. "They towed it away."

Right. The accident. The other car. The impact.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

"I can call someone," I said.

"Already handled." Betty smiled. "You've got a ride."

Dr. Ashford was waiting in the lobby. Quinn. He was wearing jeans and a sweater instead of his white coat. He looked uncomfortable. He was holding a paper bag.

"Hi," he said. Then: "I mean, hello. I thought—" He held up the bag. "I didn't know what you'd want. So I got doughnuts. But if you don't like doughnuts, I can—"

He looked like a kid who'd forgotten his homework.

I smiled. Actually smiled.

"Doughnuts are perfect," I said. "Thank you, Dr. Ashford."

"Quinn," he said quickly. "You can call me Quinn. If you want. You don't have to. But—"

"Quinn," I said. "Thank you, Quinn."

His ears turned red.

Betty helped me to his car. A sensible sedan. Clean. The kind of car that said "I don't care about cars."

Quinn drove carefully. Under the speed limit. Full stops at every sign.

We didn't talk much. I was grateful for that.

When we got to my house, he helped me to the door. Waited while I found my keys. Handed me the bag of doughnuts.

"If you need anything," he said. "Medical questions. Or... or anything. Betty has my number."

"Thank you."

He nodded. Started to leave. Stopped.

"You almost died," he said. Not looking at me. "I just thought you should know that. It was close."

"I know."

"Okay." He nodded again. "Okay. Good."

He got back in his car. I watched him drive away.

Inside, the house was exactly how I'd left it. Coffee cup in the sink. Mail on the counter. Everything normal.

Except nothing was normal anymore.

The envelope was sitting on top of the mail. Fancy paper. Official-looking.

I opened it.

Millbrook Town Council

Healthcare Heroes Recognition Ceremony

Honoring those who served during the December Storm

There was a photo. Professional. Colton in his white coat. Smiling.

Below it: Dr. Colton Whitmore, MD - For extraordinary service to our community.

I stared at it for a long time.

Then I put it down on the counter and went to bed.