Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 149606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 499(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 499(@300wpm)
I’ve fallen into a deep panic over him completely shutting me out. I never could have imagined this would happen. I thought we could talk about anything—overcome anything—no matter what. We don’t fight or leave each other. I read about it in the journals. Asher’s told me that himself. We’ve had some bumps over the past few months, but we never shut each other out. Asher always wants more time together, more talking. Never less. And never nothing.
This sudden total absence of communication is terrifying.
It feels like he’s given up and thrown in the towel.
Maybe he didn’t just leave this apartment. Maybe, he left me.
Honestly, I’m not sure I can even blame him. Everyone has their breaking point where they just cannot take anymore, and they have to shut down.
I think I pushed Asher too far.
I stare at the vase still on the floor in the hallway, in broken pieces just like us. My breath hitches as those moments from last night play over in my mind. I’ve never seen his eyes so dark or heard his voice so full of pain.
He said I took his wife away and destroyed him.
I know it hurt him to say those words just as much as it hurt me to hear them. Asher doesn’t say things impulsively out of anger.
Somehow, I’ve made a terrible mess. I convinced myself I was doing something that would be good for me. That it was important I make decisions on my own and claim Ember as my own new identity. I assumed Asher would accept my behavior, and the changes I made, because he’s so caring and supportive. But I didn’t foresee how much it would shock and devastate him to “lose” his wife’s facial features. I completely miscalculated the depth of how fragile his own psychological state is and how it’s so connected to all things Ember.
Like me, he’s still recovering, and I slammed him with too much, too soon.
As his wife, and the woman who loves him, I should’ve been more considerate of how my decisions would affect him.
Ember—the first, real Ember—never would’ve done this to him. She would have seen all the signs I’ve missed. She would know he’s still traumatized over everything that’s happened over the past eight years. She wouldn’t have gone behind his back and deceived him with shitty lies like having a cold and not knowing how to work the laptop camera. She would know exactly what to do, and what to say, to make him feel happy, loved, and secure.
I’m a defective replacement.
That’s why he left…and why he hasn’t come back.
My fingers tremble as I pick up my phone and refresh the message app, praying for it to chirp with a reply or at least show that he’s read my last message. I just need one tiny sign that he’s all right.
At this point, I’d settle for the three little dots on the screen, indicating he’s typing. I’d accept it if the dots disappeared and no message came. I deserve it. But at least I’d know he’s there.
There’s nothing.
I’m trapped in this waiting game, shaking then sobbing, envisioning every worse-case scenario, wishing something would happen to make it stop so I can calm down and catch my breath. Since I came home from the hospital, Asher’s wrapped me in a bubble of safety and comfort. This is the first time I’ve been upset or alone, unable to talk to him.
Oh, no.
My heart sinks even further when I realize this is how Asher must have felt when I avoided him for days as I was recovering from my plastic surgery.
This is how Asher felt for almost eight years when I was in a coma.
Lonely. Trapped. Heartsick. Scared. Frustrated. Helpless. Agonizing over every second that ticks by with no answers.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I can’t stop the tears that keep brimming in my eyes. I feel as if I’m drowning in a sea of teardrops and regret.
I never, ever, wanted my sweet husband to feel that kind of hell again. But I practically pushed him right back into the fire.
This can’t be the end of us, can it?
Swallowing my pride, I call Sarah’s cell phone.
“How’s Teddy doing?” I ask, trying to sound calm and casual after we say hello.
“He’s doing great. Missing you, of course.”
“I’ll be home soon,” I reply. “Would you mind going to find Asher for me? He’s probably down in his studio and can’t hear the phone.”
“He’s not here. He didn’t come home last night.” She pauses. “I thought he was in the city with you.”
My chest constricts. My fingers tighten around the phone.
“He was…” I swallow back the brewing tears. “But things didn’t go well after he saw me. My face. You were right, Sarah. I should’ve told him.”
“Oh, Ember, I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”
“No…I mean yes, physically, I’m fine. I just feel terrible about everything. He was so upset. And furious. He couldn’t get away from me fast enough. I really messed up.” I suck in a worried breath. “I haven’t heard from him since he left. I’ve called and sent texts. I don’t know where he is or what to do.”