My eyes flew open. A warm hand was pressed firmly over mine.
Julian sat at the edge of the hospital bed, brows drawn tight, holding down the spot where the IV needle pierced my skin.
I yanked my hand back as if I'd been burned.
Blood beaded instantly at the puncture site, the skin flushing red and swollen.
"Gertrude, no matter how much you hate me, you can't treat your own body like it doesn't matter."
"The doctor said every one of your markers is below normal. You're overworked and malnourished."
He seized my hand again, and his gaze caught on the scar across my wrist. Something raw flickered behind his eyes.
"It's been four years. You should have forgotten me by now. Moved on with your life."
I let out a bitter laugh. The bridge of my nose stung, and tears spun wildly behind my eyes, threatening to fall.
Who doesn't want to move on?
But the moment he died, every part of my soul left with him. What remained was just a shell, no different from a walking corpse.
The only thing that kept me breathing was my daughter.
I found out she existed the same day I tried to kill myself.