{"id":752,"date":"2026-05-31T15:45:56","date_gmt":"2026-05-31T15:45:56","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/evanastory.com\/?p=752"},"modified":"2026-05-31T15:45:56","modified_gmt":"2026-05-31T15:45:56","slug":"the-night-my-husband-told-me-i-wasnt-special-enough","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/evanastory.com\/?p=752","title":{"rendered":"The Night My Husband Told Me I Wasn\u2019t Special Enough"},"content":{"rendered":"

Part 2\/1<\/strong><\/p>\n

The man on the phone was crying so hard I couldn\u2019t understand him at first.<\/p>\n

There are sounds the human body makes when it has gone past panic and into something animal.<\/p>\n

His breathing came in broken scrapes, like he was trying to pull air through a locked door.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

In the dark bedroom, with rain ticking against the windows and Evan\u2019s side of the bed empty and cold, I sat upright and pressed the phone tighter to my ear.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\u201cWho is this?\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n

\u201cLauren?\u201d the man choked out. \u201cLauren, it\u2019s Marcus. Nick\u2019s brother.\u201d<\/p>\n

I knew the name, barely. I had seen Marcus twice at barbecues, a tall, gentle man with nervous hands and sad eyes. He was not part of Evan\u2019s regular circle. He was adjacent to it, someone the guys treated like furniture when he was in the room.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\u201cWhat happened?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

There was a horrible pause.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s Evan,\u201d he said. \u201cThere was an accident.\u201d<\/p>\n

The word accident slid into me like ice water.<\/p>\n

I stood too quickly, the room tilting. \u201cWhere is he?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHarborview,\u201d Marcus said. \u201cThey took him to Harborview. Lauren, I\u2019m so sorry. I didn\u2019t know who else to call. His phone was smashed, but Nick had your number, and\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\n
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\n
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\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\u201cIs he alive?\u201d<\/p>\n

Marcus made a sound that was almost a sob.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d he said. \u201cBut you need to come.\u201d<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t remember getting dressed. Later, I found my pajama shirt on the hallway floor, one sock under the bed, my closet light still on. I remember the cold bite of denim against my legs, the sting of rain on my face as I stepped outside, and my hands shaking so badly I dropped my car keys twice before I could unlock the door.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

The city at 4:18 a.m. looked unfinished. Streetlights blurred in the rain. The roads were nearly empty except for delivery trucks and the occasional taxi gliding through intersections like ghosts. I drove to the hospital with the radio off, my mind filling the silence with every terrible possibility.<\/p>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

Dead. Paralyzed. Drunk. Another woman. A fight.<\/p>\n

At every red light, I heard Evan\u2019s voice again.<\/p>\n

My friends think you aren\u2019t special enough for me.<\/p>\n

I hated that memory for coming now. I hated myself more for remembering it while he might have been dying.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

By the time I reached the emergency entrance, my hair was damp, my mouth tasted like metal, and my whole body felt borrowed. Marcus was waiting near the sliding doors, pacing with his phone clenched in both hands. His jacket was soaked through. When he saw me, his face collapsed.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\u201cLauren.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat happened?\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked behind me, then toward the waiting room. \u201cNick and the others are inside.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI asked what happened.\u201d<\/p>\n

Marcus swallowed. \u201cThey left the bar around two-thirty. There was another party afterward. A house in Queen Anne. Evan didn\u2019t want to go home. They were messing around near the overlook. Taking videos. Saying stupid things.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\u201cWhat kind of stupid things?\u201d<\/p>\n

His eyes dropped.<\/p>\n

\u201cMarcus.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey were recording him,\u201d he said quietly. \u201cMaking him prove something.\u201d<\/p>\n

A numbness spread from my chest to my fingers.<\/p>\n

\u201cProve what?\u201d<\/p>\n

Marcus opened his mouth, but before he could answer, Nick appeared behind him.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

Nick Caldwell, Evan\u2019s best friend since college, moved through life like every room had been built for his amusement. Even at that hour, even with blood dried along one sleeve of his expensive jacket, he had the same careless confidence. His blond hair was wet and swept back from his forehead. His eyes were red, but not from crying.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\u201cLauren,\u201d he said. \u201cThank God.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at him, and something in my face must have warned him, because he stopped a few feet away.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere is my husband?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019re working on him,\u201d Nick said. \u201cHe hit his head. Broke some ribs, maybe his shoulder. They won\u2019t tell us much.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\u201cWhy was Marcus crying when he called me?\u201d<\/p>\n

Nick glanced at Marcus, irritated. \u201cBecause Marcus panics.\u201d<\/p>\n

Marcus flinched.<\/p>\n

I stepped closer. \u201cTell me exactly what happened.\u201d<\/p>\n

Nick exhaled through his nose. \u201cWe were drinking. Evan got emotional. We were joking around. He climbed over a railing, lost his footing, and fell down the slope.\u201d<\/p>\n

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<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\u201cWhy did he climb over the railing?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was a dare.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA dare?\u201d<\/p>\n

His jaw tightened. \u201cLauren, everyone was drunk.\u201d<\/p>\n

The hospital lights were too bright. The air smelled like disinfectant, wet wool, and burnt coffee. I stared at Nick, at the dried blood on his sleeve, at the faint twitch near his left eye.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\u201cWhat were you daring him to do?\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked away.<\/p>\n

Marcus answered instead.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey dared him to call you,\u201d he said. \u201cTo put you on speaker and tell you he wanted a divorce.\u201d<\/p>\n

For a moment, every sound in the hospital disappeared.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

The sliding doors opened behind me, bringing in a gust of rain and cold air. A nurse spoke to someone at the desk. A vending machine hummed. Somewhere, a child coughed.<\/p>\n

Nick said, \u201cIt wasn\u2019t serious.\u201d<\/p>\n

I turned toward him slowly.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\u201cNot serious?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe wasn\u2019t going to do it,\u201d Nick said. \u201cIt was just a joke. He was drunk, and he kept saying things were weird between you two, and we were giving him crap. That\u2019s all.\u201d<\/p>\n

Marcus\u2019s voice trembled. \u201cThat\u2019s not all.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

Nick snapped, \u201cShut up.\u201d<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t raise my voice. \u201cNo. Let him talk.\u201d<\/p>\n

Marcus looked terrified, but something in him had already broken open.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey kept saying he\u2019d gone soft,\u201d he said. \u201cThat you had him trained. That he could do better. Nick said if Evan really believed that, he should prove it. Evan laughed at first, but then he got angry. He said you didn\u2019t even care anymore. He said you told him to go find something better.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

The words struck like a slap.<\/p>\n

Nick\u2019s expression changed. Just slightly. Enough.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou knew,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

He shrugged. \u201cEvan told us.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe told you what I said?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe mentioned it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you used it?\u201d<\/p>\n

Nick\u2019s mouth hardened. \u201cLauren, this is not the time.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said softly. \u201cThis is exactly the time.\u201d<\/p>\n

A doctor came through the double doors then, asking for Evan Whitaker\u2019s family. I stepped forward before Nick could speak.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m his wife.\u201d<\/p>\n

The doctor, a gray-haired woman with tired eyes, led me into a smaller consultation room. She explained everything in a steady voice. Evan had fallen approximately thirty feet down a wet hillside beneath a viewpoint. He had a concussion, two fractured ribs, a dislocated shoulder, deep lacerations, and internal bleeding that they were monitoring. He had been conscious when paramedics arrived, then disoriented, then unconscious for several minutes. He was stable now, but the next twenty-four hours mattered.<\/p>\n

\u201cCan I see him?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cBriefly.\u201d<\/p>\n

When they brought me to him, I thought I was prepared.<\/p>\n

I was not.<\/p>\n

Evan looked smaller in the hospital bed. That was the first thing I noticed. My husband, who filled rooms with his laugh, who took up too much space at parties, who stretched across our couch like he owned all comfort in the world, lay half-swallowed by white sheets and machines. His face was bruised along one cheekbone. There was dried blood near his hairline. His right arm was immobilized. Tubes ran from places I didn\u2019t want to look at.<\/p>\n

His eyes were closed.<\/p>\n

I stood beside him and felt nothing at first.<\/p>\n

Not relief. Not rage. Not love.<\/p>\n

Just a vast, white silence.<\/p>\n

Then his fingers moved.<\/p>\n

I reached for his hand automatically.<\/p>\n

His skin was warm.<\/p>\n

That was what undid me.<\/p>\n

Not his injuries. Not the machines. Not the doctor\u2019s careful tone. Just the warmth of him, stubborn and alive under my palm.<\/p>\n

I bent over, my forehead nearly touching the metal rail of the bed, and cried without making a sound.<\/p>\n

For three hours, I sat beside him while dawn came gray and slow through the high windows. Nurses came and went. Machines beeped. Evan slept.<\/p>\n

At seven-thirty, Nick knocked once and walked in without waiting.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow is he?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

I wiped my face with a tissue and stood.<\/p>\n

\u201cStable.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood.\u201d He looked relieved, but not in the way I wanted him to. More like a man learning the fire he started had not spread to his own house.<\/p>\n

\u201cLeave,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

His eyebrows rose. \u201cExcuse me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou heard me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLauren, I\u2019m his best friend.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd I\u2019m his wife.\u201d<\/p>\n

He laughed once, quietly. \u201cNow you want to be?\u201d<\/p>\n

The words landed low and poisonous.<\/p>\n

I stared at him.<\/p>\n

Nick leaned closer, lowering his voice. \u201cDon\u2019t act like you didn\u2019t push him. He was miserable. Everybody saw it. You went cold, and he didn\u2019t know what to do with that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEvan is in that bed because you humiliated him for entertainment.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s in that bed because he climbed over a railing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAfter you dared him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s a grown man.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo are you,\u201d I said. \u201cStart acting like one.\u201d<\/p>\n

For the first time since I had known him, Nick\u2019s face showed true dislike without charm covering it.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know what your problem is?\u201d he said. \u201cYou think quiet makes you strong. It doesn\u2019t. It just makes people tired of guessing what you want.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stepped toward the door and opened it.<\/p>\n

A nurse passing by glanced inside.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs everything all right?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said. \u201cThis man is leaving.\u201d<\/p>\n

Nick looked at the nurse, then at me. He smiled thinly.<\/p>\n

\u201cFine,\u201d he said. \u201cBut when he wakes up, he\u2019s going to ask for me.\u201d<\/p>\n

He walked out.<\/p>\n

He was wrong.<\/p>\n

When Evan woke up just after noon, he asked for water, then for me.<\/p>\n

His eyes drifted open slowly, unfocused at first. He blinked, winced, and tried to shift before pain pinned him back down.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t move,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

His gaze found mine.<\/p>\n

For a few seconds, he looked confused. Then memory came in pieces across his face. Fear. Shame. Recognition.<\/p>\n

\u201cLauren,\u201d he rasped.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m here.\u201d<\/p>\n

His lips parted. \u201cI didn\u2019t call you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey wanted me to.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n

His eyes filled with tears so quickly it startled me.<\/p>\n

\u201cI wasn\u2019t going to,\u201d he whispered.<\/p>\n

I said nothing.<\/p>\n

\u201cI swear,\u201d he said. \u201cI wasn\u2019t going to say it. I climbed over because Nick said I wouldn\u2019t even have the guts to stand on the other side. I was drunk. I was stupid. I thought\u2026\u201d He closed his eyes. \u201cI don\u2019t know what I thought.\u201d<\/p>\n

I had imagined this moment differently. In every version I had rehearsed over the past two weeks, I was calm and cutting. I told him exactly how he had hurt me. I watched regret dawn on his face. I walked away with dignity intact.<\/p>\n

But real pain is never as elegant as imagined pain.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did you tell them about me?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

His eyes opened again.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYour friends. What did you tell them?\u201d<\/p>\n

He swallowed. \u201cLauren\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did you say that made them think our marriage was theirs to judge?\u201d<\/p>\n

His face twisted. \u201cI complained. About stupid things.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat things?\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked at the ceiling.<\/p>\n

\u201cSay it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat you\u2019d gotten distant,\u201d he whispered. \u201cThat you didn\u2019t laugh at my jokes anymore. That you always seemed disappointed in me. That sometimes I felt like you settled into the marriage and stopped seeing me.\u201d<\/p>\n

A bitter laugh escaped me before I could stop it.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou felt unseen?\u201d<\/p>\n

He flinched.<\/p>\n

I leaned closer. \u201cYou stood in our kitchen and told me your friends thought I wasn\u2019t special enough for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, Evan. I don\u2019t think you do. You didn\u2019t say, \u2018Nick made a cruel joke.\u2019 You didn\u2019t say, \u2018My friends are idiots and I shut them down.\u2019 You brought their judgment into our home like a gift and waited to see what I\u2019d do with it.\u201d<\/p>\n

A tear slipped down the side of his face into his hair.<\/p>\n

\u201cI wanted you to fight,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

The confession hung between us.<\/p>\n

I stared at him. \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI wanted you to get jealous. Angry. Something.\u201d His voice broke. \u201cYou were slipping away, and I didn\u2019t know how to reach you. So I said the worst thing I could think of because I thought maybe you\u2019d prove you still cared.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stepped back from the bed.<\/p>\n

The room seemed suddenly too small.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou tried to wound me into loving you louder?\u201d<\/p>\n

His face crumpled.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d he whispered.<\/p>\n

I looked at the man in the bed, bruised and broken, and understood something with terrible clarity. Evan had loved me. Maybe he still did. But his love was immature in the places that mattered most. It wanted reassurance without vulnerability. It wanted devotion without humility. It wanted me to bleed so he could measure how deeply I felt.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t do this right now,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cLauren, please.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou need rest.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t leave.\u201d<\/p>\n

His voice was raw with panic, and for one dangerous second, I almost stayed because old habits are stronger than anger. I had spent years translating his moods, smoothing his edges, making sure no discomfort ever sat with him too long.<\/p>\n

But the cold thing inside me stirred again.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll come back later,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

In the hallway, I leaned against the wall and pressed both hands over my face.<\/p>\n

Marcus was sitting in the waiting area with a paper cup of coffee untouched between his knees. When he saw me, he stood.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs he awake?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid he tell you?\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at him. \u201cTell me what?\u201d<\/p>\n

Marcus went pale.<\/p>\n

That was how I learned there was more.<\/p>\n

He took me down to the hospital cafeteria, which smelled like overcooked eggs and bleach. We sat at a corner table beneath a television playing morning news with the volume muted. Marcus kept rubbing his thumb along the seam of his coffee cup until it dented.<\/p>\n

\u201cI should have told you before,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

He nodded. \u201cNick recorded it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe fall?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBefore the fall.\u201d<\/p>\n

My stomach tightened.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat exactly did he record?\u201d<\/p>\n

Marcus pulled out his phone. \u201cI have a copy. I wasn\u2019t supposed to. Nick sent it to the group chat before things went bad, and then deleted it after the ambulance came. But my phone saved it.\u201d<\/p>\n

He slid the phone toward me.<\/p>\n

I did not want to watch.<\/p>\n

I pressed play anyway.<\/p>\n

The video was shaky and dark, lit by phone flashlights and the yellow glow of distant streetlamps. Rain streaked across the lens. I could hear laughter, loud and mean.<\/p>\n

Evan stood near a railing, soaked hair plastered to his forehead, a beer in one hand. He looked drunk, yes, but not gone. His face was flushed, his smile strained.<\/p>\n

Nick\u2019s voice came from behind the camera.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome on, Whitaker. Say it again. What did Lauren tell you?\u201d<\/p>\n

Evan laughed, but his eyes darted away. \u201cDrop it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, no, no. She told you to go find something better, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

More laughter.<\/p>\n

Someone else said, \u201cSavage.\u201d<\/p>\n

Nick moved closer. \u201cMaybe she\u2019s right. Maybe you should.\u201d<\/p>\n

Evan\u2019s jaw tightened. \u201cShut up.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCall her,\u201d Nick said. \u201cRight now. Put her on speaker. Tell her you\u2019re upgrading.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not doing that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause you\u2019re scared of her?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause she owns your balls?\u201d<\/p>\n

The men laughed again.<\/p>\n

Evan\u2019s face changed. The shame on it was almost worse than the cruelty around him. He looked like a boy surrounded by older boys at a playground, desperate not to be the one they chose to destroy.<\/p>\n

Then he said, \u201cShe doesn\u2019t own anything.\u201d<\/p>\n

Nick whooped. \u201cThere he is.\u201d<\/p>\n

Evan stepped toward the railing.<\/p>\n

Marcus\u2019s voice appeared in the background. \u201cGuys, stop. This is stupid.\u201d<\/p>\n

Nick ignored him. \u201cProve it, then. Stand on the other side and call her.\u201d<\/p>\n

The camera jolted as Evan climbed over.<\/p>\n

My breath stopped.<\/p>\n

In the video, the slope beyond the railing looked black and slick. Evan stood with one hand gripping the metal bar behind him, trying to grin.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere,\u201d he said. \u201cHappy?\u201d<\/p>\n

Nick laughed. \u201cNow call her.\u201d<\/p>\n

Evan reached into his pocket.<\/p>\n

And then another voice, quieter, sharper, said, \u201cUnless Lauren really is the best you can do.\u201d<\/p>\n

Evan looked up.<\/p>\n

His expression went blank.<\/p>\n

Nick said, \u201cOops.\u201d<\/p>\n

Evan took one step toward him, forgetting the railing was behind him instead of in front.<\/p>\n

His foot slipped.<\/p>\n

The camera lurched.<\/p>\n

Someone screamed.<\/p>\n

The screen went wild with rain and darkness.<\/p>\n

I stopped the video.<\/p>\n

My hands were ice cold.<\/p>\n

Marcus whispered, \u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n

I pushed the phone back to him. \u201cSend it to me.\u201d<\/p>\n

His eyes widened. \u201cLauren\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSend it.\u201d<\/p>\n

He did.<\/p>\n

That evening, after doctors confirmed Evan\u2019s bleeding had stabilized, I went home to shower. The apartment felt untouched, almost offensive in its normalcy. His sneakers were by the door. His protein shaker sat in the sink. A gray hoodie hung over the back of a dining chair. Evidence of a life interrupted, not ended.<\/p>\n

I stood in the doorway of our bedroom and looked at our bed.<\/p>\n

For weeks, I had slept beside his absence even when his body was there.<\/p>\n

Now the absence had shape.<\/p>\n

I showered until the water ran cold. Then I sat at the kitchen island in a towel and watched the video again. And again. And again.<\/p>\n

By the fourth time, I wasn\u2019t watching Evan.<\/p>\n

I was watching Nick.<\/p>\n

There was something in his voice just before the fall. A pleasure. A precision. He knew exactly where to press. He knew which wound would make Evan move.<\/p>\n

My phone buzzed.<\/p>\n

A message from Nick.<\/p>\n

How is he?<\/p>\n

I stared at it until another appeared.<\/p>\n

We should talk before this gets messy.<\/p>\n

Then:<\/p>\n

For Evan\u2019s sake.<\/p>\n

I almost laughed.<\/p>\n

Instead, I typed one sentence.<\/p>\n

You don\u2019t get to use his name as a shield.<\/p>\n

The response came quickly.<\/p>\n

You have no idea what you\u2019re doing.<\/p>\n

I saved the messages.<\/p>\n

The next morning, I returned to the hospital with clean clothes for Evan and divorce papers in my bag.<\/p>\n

I had not planned to bring them. I had printed them months ago during a different fight, then hidden them in my desk drawer like a bomb I was too afraid to touch. That morning, my hand found the folder before my mind caught up.<\/p>\n

Evan was awake when I entered. His bruising had deepened overnight, purple spreading beneath one eye. He tried to smile, but pain stopped it halfway.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey.\u201d<\/p>\n

I placed the bag on the chair.<\/p>\n

He watched me carefully. \u201cYou look like you haven\u2019t slept.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI haven\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLauren\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

I pulled the chair beside his bed and sat.<\/p>\n

\u201cI watched the video.\u201d<\/p>\n

His eyes closed.<\/p>\n

\u201cMarcus sent it to me,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

He turned his face away.<\/p>\n

For a long moment, neither of us spoke.<\/p>\n

Then Evan said, \u201cI hate that you saw me like that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI hate that you were like that.\u201d<\/p>\n

He nodded once, tears sliding silently into his hair.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know how to fix this,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

The folder in my bag seemed to pulse.<\/p>\n

I thought about taking it out. I thought about laying the papers on his hospital blanket and letting the black ink say what my mouth could not.<\/p>\n

But he looked so broken.<\/p>\n

And I hated that compassion could feel like betrayal of myself.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t fix it by being sorry in a hospital bed,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t fix it by blaming Nick.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd I can\u2019t fix it by staying just because you almost died.\u201d<\/p>\n

His eyes opened. Fear moved through them.<\/p>\n

Next Part==>> 2<\/em><\/a><\/h2>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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