He stared at me for a few long moments, and I focused on the column of his throat as he swallowed hard.
“Why? Start talking, Sares, tell me why the fuck you would do something so selfish, so fucking spiteful, mean, and uncaring to our kids and me? Start fucking talking.”
A loud, raspy sob escaped me as I shook my head.
“Fucking tell me! Tell me why death was a better option than life with me? Start fucking talking,” he roared, but I just continued to sob and shake my head.
The blood pressure cuff tightened around my arm as the door to my room opened and a nurse came through it.
“Is there a problem?” she asked Liam before turning to me. “Oh, you’re awake. I’ll let the doctor know.” She was already grabbing my notes from the end of the bed and jotting something down. “How’d you feel, can I get you anything?” she asked with a smile.
“A drink please,” I croaked out.
“Sure thing. I’ll go fetch you a jug of iced water and let the doctor know you’re conscious. Won’t be long.” She headed out of the room, her smile still in place.
My eyes slid back to Liam. He had both hands pushed deep into the front pockets of his jeans, forcing the fabric down low on his hips. There was a gap of about two inches before his plain white T-shirt started, and I could see the trail of hair that led down below the waistband of his jeans. I knew where that trail of hair started, and I was fully aware of the delights that were waiting where that trail of hair ended.
Liam Delaney was so fucking good-looking, and at one time, he worshipped the ground I walked on. Then, one day, he didn’t. He stopped seeing me. He stopped hearing me. It was like I no longer existed.
The door to my room opened again and the nurse walked back through, carrying a jug of water and a plastic cup with a straw in it.
She explained that the doctor would be in shortly, all while helping me to sit up and plumping my pillows behind me. She filled the cup with water and helped me to take a long sip through the straw. The whole time I was aware of Liam’s eyes on me—staring, hard, cold.
Nurse Judy, according to her badge, left the room and the silence hung heavy between Liam and me.
“Why’d you do it, Sares? I’m your husband, do you not think that I at least deserve an explanation?”
I took in a shaky breath and tried to arrange the words in my head. I knew that once I said them aloud, there would be no going back. The guilt and self-loathing that had held me captive and consumed me for the last six months crawled from my toes to my belly to my chest. It clawed its way from my insides out, until I was smothered, barely able to breathe.
The fog that I had been living in for the past few years made everyday life almost impossible, but after I did what I did six months ago, things just spiralled and spiralled until I was so far down the rabbit hole I couldn’t see a way back.
Then the dog happened. I killed the dog. It could’ve been one of my children. I put them in danger. It just confirmed things for me. I was no good. There was a reason people left me. And last night it all became clear, death became my only option.
“Why aren’t we enough? Why are me and the boys so inconsequential to you that you could do something like this?”
I let out another sob. I had no excuses and no energy, need, or desire to lie.
“I did it for you and the boys.” I told him, my voice sounding huskier than normal.
“What the fuck does that mean? How was it for us? We would never want you dead, you’re the centre of our universe,” he stated, matter of factly.
Oh, if only it were true. I shook my head in disagreement.
“You don’t even see me,” I told him, desperately trying not to cry.
“You’re all I fucking see, Sare, you’re all I’ve seen since the day we met.”
He was lying, and if he knew the real me, knew what I’d done, he wouldn’t be saying that.
“I’ve been in a dark and lonely place for so long. I wasn’t coping, not at all. You didn’t see that, did you?” I accused.
This, this conversation right here was just one of the reasons I made the decision to end my own life. Call me selfish, a coward, call me what you will but anything was better than living my life under the weight of the deepest, darkest of depressions and the all-consuming guilt that shredded me. I was terrified that I would eventually end up blaming my husband for it. It wasn’t his fault; it wasn’t my fault.
It just was what it was.
His eyes looked all over my face, and I could actually see the change in his expression as realisation dawned on him. He was actually seeing me for the first time in years, and realised that the light had gone from my eyes.
“Why didn’t you talk to me?” he asked quietly.