Chapter 4
Maisy woke up to the sharp scent of disinfectant and the steady beeping of hospital machines. For a second, she had no idea where she was–until Melinda’s muffled sobs drifted in from the
hallway.
“What am I going to do… I didn’t mean to mix up her meds. I thought they were antibiotics, not sleeping pills… If something serious happens, this could turn into a huge medical mess.”–
Then Patrick’s voice, gentle and steady: “It’s okay, Melinda. I’m here. Nothing’s going to happen to you. Even if there’s trouble, I’ll sign the forms. I’ll protect you.”
Maisy bit down on her lip, hard, until she tasted blood.
She didn’t know how long she lay there, staring at the ceiling, before the door finally creaked open and Patrick walked in.
“What happened?” Her voice shook. “Why did I faint?”
Patrick didn’t hesitate. “Low blood sugar.”
Maisy felt something inside her shatter. She remembered when they’d first gotten married, a socialite had tried to embarrass her at a party by forcing her to drink, and the next day, Patrick had tanked that woman’s company’s stock price. He’d held Maisy close in front of everyone and promised, “Maisy, as long as I’m here, no one will ever hurt you.”
But now, she’d almost died because of Melinda’s mistake, and Patrick was comforting Melinda
instead of her.
Patrick, how did it come to this?
She was trembling, but Patrick didn’t even seem to notice. After checking that she was awake, he stood up, already looking toward the door. “Melinda was worried sick about you all night. I’ll take her home so she can rest. I’ll come back later, okay?”
But he didn’t come back. Not that day, not the next. Maisy only saw him in photos on social media. He and Melinda were at the beach, at a concert, at all the places Maisy and him had
once promised each other they’d go, but never did.
The day she left the hospital, Patrick finally appeared.
He was leaning against the car, holding a bouquet of white mums. When he saw her, he walked over and handed her the flowers. “Sorry I haven’t been around. Work’s been crazy. It’s the anniversary of your mom’s passing, right? I’ll go with you.”
Maisy took the flowers in silence, only then noticing Melinda already sitting in the car.
Maisy slid into the backseat, ignoring her, and stared out at the blur of the city flashing by. Her mother’s last words echoed in her mind: Maisy, I just hope you find someone who truly loves you.
She ran her fingers over the three love letters still tucked in her purse, bitterness rising in her
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Chapter 4
throat. Mom, I think I made the wrong choice.
At the cemetery, Maisy barely had a chance to say goodbye before a staff member approached, looking apologetic. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Huffman. With all the rain and landslides lately, we have to relocate all the graves in this section…”
Maisy’s grip tightened on her bag, knuckles white. Her mother had loved peace and quiet. Now even in death, she couldn’t have it.
Patrick appeared beside her, taking the paperwork and signing his name with a flourish. “Maisy, go get the urn. I’ll handle the rest.”
Maisy nodded and started up the slippery stone steps, rain soaking through her clothes. Every step felt like a knife cutting into her.
At the grave, the earth had already been dug up. Maisy knelt in the mud and gently gathered her mother’s urn–a simple wooden box, her mother’s name, Deanna, carved on top.
“Your mom must’ve been beautiful,” Melinda piped up suddenly, stepping closer and reaching out. “Mrs. Huffman, let me help.”
Maisy pulled away, clutching the urn tightly. “No, thanks.” She started down the steps, careful with every footfall.
Then Melinda shrieked, “Ah! A bug!” and lurched toward Maisy.
Maisy barely had time to react before Melinda slammed into her. She lost her balance and tumbled down the steps, the urn pressed desperately to her chest. Her back hit the stone hard,
pain exploding behind her eyes.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!” Melinda called, rushing down after her. “Let me help!”
Melinda reached for the urn, but before Maisy could stop her, Melinda slipped, her feet skidding
on the wet stone.
The urn crashed to the ground and split apart. Ashes scattered everywhere, turning to gray
streaks in the rain–soaked mud.
I’m so sorry! I’ll clean it up!” Melinda cried, hands scrambling through the mess, only making it worse as the ashes washed away.
Maisy’s whole body shook. She couldn’t hold it in anymore. She slapped Melinda hard across the face. “Enough! You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”
Melinda clutched her cheek, tears streaming down her face. “I didn’t! I was just trying to help, even if I’m a little clumsy. I meant well. Why would you hit me? I don’t have money, but does that mean you can treat me like this? You lost your mom’s ashes, but I lost my dignity!”
Maisy’s despair boiled over. She raised her hand again, but someone grabbed her wrist in a tight, unyielding grip.
Patrick stepped between them, his face cold as ice. “Maisy! What are you doing?”
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Melinda broke down in sobs. “I was just trying to help… and she hit me…”
“If you hate me so much, I’ll just leave,” she choked out, turning away.
Patrick pulled her into his arms. “You’re not going anywhere. I’ve got you.”
He turned to Maisy, his glare sharp enough to cut. “Apologize!”
Rain and tears streamed down Maisy’s cheeks. She watched Patrick wipe away Melinda’s tears, his voice gentle as he comforted her, sharp as he scolded Maisy. It felt like someone was carving out her heart.
She stared at him, her lips trembling. “Patrick, did you even hear what happened? She broke my mother’s ashes!”
“That’s not a reason to hit her,” Patrick snapped, his voice colder than the rain.
He grabbed Melinda’s hand, wrapping her fingers in his. “If she won’t apologize and she hit you, then hit her back.”
Maisy’s eyes went wide, barely able to process as Patrick raised Melinda’s hand and brought it crashing down across her face.
The slap landed, burning and heavy–ten times harder than the one she’d given.
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