He'd gone beyond his player ways for her.
She'd grown beyond her traumatic past for him.
Together, their love was beyond.
Until one fatal accident.
__________
When she loses the love of her life in a car crash, Althea has nothing left in California...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
*ALTHEA'S POV*
October 12, 2023.
Finally, I had stayed.
Then, why did my legs buzz with as much heaviness as if I'd run thousands of miles, and my breath was shorter than someone ending a marathon when I stepped out of the elevator?
I knew why: because I might not have fled, but I'd been the same coward, spending all day drawing and playing with the kids to avoid the thoughts that were now catching up with me. And maybe also the lack of sleep.
Though if I could blame the latter for the reflection I glimpsed through the glass door of the entrance, behind my strained eyes, my mind was too alert to retreat, and I surely wouldn't get any sleep when—if I reached my hotel room.
The idea of sitting alone with my thoughts paralyzed me so much that I would probably stay frozen by the front door of the clinic.
Or I would run away and never come back.
Through the glass, between the illuminated pathway leading to the parking lot and the dark sky, I didn't see any other possibility.
With Asher, there was no in-between, and coming back for the kids while pretending he wasn't here wasn't conceivable.
Even from the other end of the large building, I could sense his presence pulling on all my nerve endings and tugging the knots of my stomach tighter.
Besides, the doctor Rollings would be waiting for my answer, and if I stayed, I would have no excuse to say no.
Did I have any excuse to say no, anyway?
It was a chance for him to get better... to move... to open a yogurt tub... to smile... to walk? I didn't know exactly, and I would never know if I didn't try.
He'd never hesitated to help me, whether it was skipping his lunch every Friday to be at the art club, taking a rocky detour to make sure I could breathe, even if he was heavy-laden, or faking his death to let me realize my dream.
Although this was the cruelest and most stupid act he'd ever done, he'd done it for me. I couldn't forget it, like I couldn't forget all the grief he'd caused for me.
Would helping him mean forgiving him? Because I wasn't sure if I—
"I can!"
Interrupting the whisper of doubts in my mind, a little yelp made me jump out of my stare at the glass door, and I almost believed I'd dreamed it when a man's voice echoed from somewhere down the hallway.
