My Husband 387

GUILT JOSH

The hallway outside her room felt too long. Too bright. Too goddamn sterile. My footsteps barely made a sound against the polished floors, but inside my head, everything was roaring. Laura was alive.

The words kept looping over and over, but my body hadn't caught up yet. It felt like if I let myself believe it too much, the universe would take it away again.

A doctor had tried to stop me at the nurses' station, spitting out words like stable condition and still on a ventilator, but none of it registered. I'd shoved past them, past the concerned voices, past the fucking security guard who grabbed at my arm. Nothing was going to stop

me.

And then I saw her.

The doors burst open, loud voices calling after me, but none of it mattered.

My heart stopped.

Laura.

Her pale, thin frame was bundled into a wheelchair, her body swallowed up by hospital-issued clothes that hung from her like she was nothing but skin and bone. Her hair was limp, her cheeks hollowed, and her skin too pale under the harsh 0.00%

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fluorescent lights.

But she was looking at me.

Those eyes-those beautiful fucking eyes-were staring right at me, and I swore I felt something crack wide open in my chest.

Laura was alive.

didn't matter that time had taken from her, that she wasn't the same. She was still the most beautiful thing

at me again, but I shoved him off, barely sparing him a glance. My feet moved before my brain could catch up, carrying me to her, and then I was

barely felt

fingers were so thin.

her wrists, her knuckles, anything

to touch her too much, afraid she'd break, but I needed to. I needed to feel her. To prove to myself that this

"Laura," I choked out.

nurse beside

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Hi, babe.

broken sound left me. Something between

but it was useless. I was smiling even as my vision blurred, even as my chest ached with

as much as I could have when guilt was busy filling up my

came out of me all at once, spilling from my mouth like I had

sorry," I whispered, my voice raw, broken. "I-I fucked up, Laura. I gave

breath hitched, my hands tightening

my head,

should've known better," I kept going, unable to stop the words. "I should've

dropped my head onto

delicate fingers-moved through my hair, soft and slow,

begging for forgiveness,

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