My Fiancé Left Me Dying for His Mistress

The car smelled like Lennon's perfume. Something floral and expensive that made my throat tight. I sat in the back seat, my hands folded in my lap, watching the streetlights slide past the window.

Darius drove. Lennon sat beside him in the passenger seat, her bandaged wrist resting dramatically on the center console. She kept touching it, wincing for effect, though I'd seen her lift a full suitcase with that same hand an hour ago.

'The restaurant is on Fifth,' Lennon said, leaning forward to adjust the navigation. Her shoulder brushed against Darius's arm. 'Take the next left.'

'Got it,' he said.

I said nothing. I'd learned that silence was safer than speaking. Every word I offered lately seemed to land wrong, to be twisted into evidence of my inadequacy.

The city lights blurred together as we drove through downtown Seattle. Rain had started to fall, light and steady, turning the windshield into a kaleidoscope of refracted color. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass and closed my eyes.

'June, you're so quiet back there,' Lennon said, glancing over her shoulder. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. 'Are you feeling okay?'

'I'm fine,' I said.

'You don't look fine,' she continued, her voice dripping with false concern. 'You look pale. Doesn't she look pale, Darius?'

He glanced at me in the rearview mirror. Our eyes met for half a second before he looked away. 'She's fine.'

Lennon turned back around, satisfied. Her fingers trailed along the base of her throat. That gesture. I'd seen it a dozen times now. She only did it when she was lying.

We approached an intersection. The light was yellow. Darius started to slow.

Then Lennon's hand shot out and grabbed the wheel.

The car lurched violently to the left, swerving into the oncoming lane. I heard the scream of tires, the blare of a horn. Everything slowed down. The headlights of another car filled the windshield, impossibly bright. I didn't have time to brace.

The impact slammed me against the door frame. My head cracked against the window. Glass exploded inward in a shower of glittering fragments. The world spun, tilted, went dark at the edges.

I couldn't breathe.

My chest seized. I tried to pull air into my lungs, but nothing came. My throat closed up like a fist. I clawed at my seatbelt, but my hands wouldn't work right. Everything was distant and muffled, like I was underwater.

Through the ringing in my ears, I heard Lennon's voice. 'Oh my god, Darius, I'm bleeding!'

'It's okay, baby, I've got you.'

I tried to call out, but no sound came. My vision tunneled. Black spots crawled across my sight. I was suffocating. Drowning in air.

I heard the click of a seatbelt. The creak of a door opening. Footsteps on wet pavement.

Darius's voice, urgent and tender. 'Can you walk? Here, lean on me.'

'It hurts,' Lennon whimpered.

'I know. I've got you.'

I convulsed against the seat, my body jerking involuntarily. My lips felt numb. Cold. I knew, distantly, that they were turning blue.

Sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer. Red and blue lights painted the wreckage in strobing color.

I heard Darius's voice again, farther away now. 'She needs help! Her forehead is bleeding!'

Not me. He wasn't talking about me.

My vision went gray. I was dying. I knew I was dying. And he was standing beside her gurney, stroking her hair.

Then a face appeared at the shattered window. An older man with kind eyes and a dog leash wrapped around his wrist. 'Jesus Christ,' he muttered. 'Hang on, sweetheart. Stay with me.'

His hands were on me, turning my head, checking my airway. 'She's not breathing right. I need help over here!'

He pulled me out of the car, laid me on the wet pavement, tilted my head back. His fingers pressed against my throat, checking for a pulse. 'Come on,' he whispered. 'Come on.'

I gasped. A thin thread of air dragged into my lungs. Then another. The world swam back into focus, blurry and too bright.

'That's it,' the man said. 'Keep breathing. You're okay. You're going to be okay.'

Paramedics rushed over with a stretcher. They lifted me onto it, strapped an oxygen mask over my face. The man with the dog stayed beside me, holding my hand.

'What's your name?' he asked.

'June,' I whispered against the plastic.

'I'm Marcus,' he said. 'You're safe now, June.'

Across the street, I saw Darius standing beside the ambulance. Lennon sat on the gurney, a small bandage on her forehead. He was taking a photo of her with his phone. She smiled bravely for the camera, her good hand clutching his.

He didn't look at me once.

Marcus followed my gaze. His jaw tightened. 'That your husband?'

'Fiancé,' I whispered.

He didn't say anything. But his hand squeezed mine a little tighter.

The paramedics wheeled me toward the second ambulance. As we passed Darius, I heard Lennon's voice, soft and sweet. 'You saved me,' she said.

'Always,' he replied.

I closed my eyes and let the darkness take me.