It landed flat against the chest of the white lab coat. A sharp hiss filled the silence as heat seared into fabric. Smoke rose, carrying the acrid smell of burnt cotton. I watched the brown scorch mark spread like a cancer, burning a hole right through the left breast pocket—right where his heart should have been.
I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I turned off the iron, walked past him into the bedroom, and stared at the ceiling until dawn.
Before I left the next morning, I placed the divorce agreement and my wedding ring on the entryway console. Beside them, I left the ruined lab coat. On the unburnt fabric, in my neatest handwriting, I left a final diagnosis:
Dr. Delgado, consider your patient, Alex Henson, permanently discharged.
——
I boarded the first flight to Seaside City.
For ten years, I had carved away pieces of myself to fit into the mold of Alex Delgado's perfect wife. I had given too much.
Silver Beach had always been on my bucket list. Every time I mentioned it, he brushed it off. Too busy. The hospital needed him. I just had to wait.
Wait, wait, and wait again.