I forced my tears back and looked at him, my voice slow and steady. “I said I didn’t do it, and… even if this is a transplanted hand, it still hurts.”
Felix froze, then looked down at my wrist like he just noticed it was red. “Shit… Danica, I’m sorry,” he muttered, letting go right away. “I thought you might do something reckless. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He exhaled and added, “Where are the rings I gave you? Why aren’t you wearing them?”
I almost laughed. “You gave me the men’s one. It didn’t fit, so I took it off.”
He paused, a little thrown off, then nodded. “Alright. We’ll switch them back when we get home.”
After that, he dropped it. Like Shannon didn’t even exist.
...
Three days later, late at night, his phone rang and he got up immediately. His hand was already on the door when he suddenly turned back to look at me and stopped. I just sat there, calm, not asking anything, not stopping him, nothing. For a second he looked… unsettled. Like he didn’t expect this version of me. He hesitated, like he might stay, but then his phone rang again.
“Something came up at the company,” he said quickly and left.
He didn’t come home that night. Just one message.