The Third Time I Died For You

In the hospital, Jasper sat by my bed, his fingers fiddling nervously with the edge of the medical chart.

"Genevieve, stop," he said, his tone so calm it was chilling. "Is this how you're going to get my attention now? Are you trying to threaten me?"

I stared at him. He was frowning, his expression a mirror of a parent scolding a misbehaving child.

"Scarlett's situation is different," he continued. "After the car accident, she developed severe PTSD. I became the only person she trusts. We grew up together. Her family is abroad, they're barely around, so she's always relied on me."

He paused, his gaze falling on my vacant eyes. "Now, she doesn't recognize anyone but me. After the accident, I'm the only one who makes her feel safe..."

Jasper’s fingers toyed with my IV line, his eyes drifting toward the window. "Her psychologist said she’s like this because of an extreme lack of security."

He turned back to me, his brow furrowed. I met his gaze, noting the weariness and helplessness etched on his face.

"It's not like that between us." A hint of urgency crept into his voice. "She's like a sister to me. You get that, right? Besides, you know what her condition is like."

His gaze turned cold. "You know she's sick, so why do you keep holding it against her?"

He sighed. "Don't do this, alright? You're my wife. Nothing is going to change that."

Jasper gently brushed a strand of hair from my face, then snatched his hand back. "Once Scarlett's condition stabilizes, I'll make it up to you. We'll go to Italy, see those ancient buildings you love. Okay?"

I watched his eyes flicker away. The telltale sign of a lie.

"Right now..." he lowered his voice, "can you just… try to understand?"

His eyes were pleading. "Scarlett really needs me. This is just temporary, okay?"

I listened to his so-called explanation in silence, then turned my head to stare blankly at the ceiling.

The words seemed to come from far away, muffled, yet they drilled into my ears, impossible to ignore.

I managed a soft "Mm-hmm," my voice raspy and bitter, not my own.

The numbness of severe depression had stolen even the strength to argue.

He wanted me to wait. He said he’d make it up to me. He hoped I’d understand.

His words were feathers, too light to cause a ripple in my dead heart.

I watched Jasper glance at his phone again and again, inching toward the door.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Hilarious. For three years, he’d fed me the same lines, and for three years, I’d swallowed every one.

"Go on," I said, my own calmness surprising me.

The relief that flooded his face was a fresh sting on my numb nerves. He rushed back to my side, reaching to stroke my hair.

I flinched away.

"You..." He froze, then offered a helpless smile. "Don't be difficult, okay? I'll be back soon."

I watched him turn and leave, his voice softening as he answered his phone. In that moment, I knew. My heart was already dead.

Killed by Jasper's repeated choices, by Scarlett's taunts, and by my own foolish hope.

The door clicked shut, locking us in two separate worlds forever. I slowly closed my eyes, letting the darkness consume the last flicker of light.