“Why are you back?” He frowned, his tone filled with annoyance.
I looked at him, pointing to the nearly invisible number “4” on my wrist.
“Jason, if you don’t love me anymore, I’m going to die.”
He reacted as though he’d just heard the funniest joke in the world.
“Rachel, we’ve been married for three years. Other than using these pathetic excuses to get my attention, what else can you do?”
His words were like a bucket of ice water poured from head to toe.
My gaze fell on the jacket he had tossed carelessly on the bed.
From its pocket stuck out a jewelry store receipt—an expensive diamond necklace.
It wasn’t for me.
My birthday had already passed a month ago.
I pointed at the receipt, my voice trembling.
“What’s this?”
Jason glanced at it and shoved it back into his pocket.
“A client gift.”
Then, without another look at me, he got up.
“I’m going to the office.”
The door slammed shut with a deafening bang.
The number “4” on my wrist flashed violently and dropped to “3.”
A stabbing, bone-deep pain consumed me. My vision went black, and I lost all consciousness.
When I woke again, it was to the sound of commotion.