The next day, the factory fire made it into the local headlines, but the focus quickly shifted. The videos of me allegedly refusing to use the key to save Harvey had gone viral overnight. Media outlets feasted on the scandal, plastering headlines across every platform: [Heartless Wife Leaves Husband to Burn?]
Online, comments poured in like venom.
[Monster!]
[Cold-blooded snake. If I were her husband, I'd leave her immediately!]
[She's clearly hiding something. Check her bank accounts and lovers—bet there's a man in the picture.]
Fabricated stories surfaced soon after. Opportunistic men, seeing a chance for attention, began to spin ridiculous tales of affairs and "secret relationships," fueling the fire with their lies. My name had become a public curse word.
***
When I arrived at the hospital the following morning, the lobby buzzed with activity. I walked past journalists clustered by the reception desk, their whispers carried faintly through the air.
Inside his room, Harvey sat upright in bed, pale and weak, with dark shadows beneath his eyes. He looked small against the stark white sheets. Yet his tired eyes flicked immediately to me and his expression softened with desperation.