I closed the book and let my head rest against the back of the chair. Instead of searching for the missing pieces, I simply let myself think of Jason. Immediately, the humming in my chest softened into a warm, pleasant glow. I pictured his face—the way it looked on our wedding day, the way he had promised to protect me. Thinking of him made me feel safe, grounded, and strangely loved.
But then, a stray thought of the word death drifted through my mind, and a wave of profound, hollow sadness washed over me. It was a heavy, suffocating feeling that made my breath hitch. Why would I ever want to end my life? Why would I want to leave all that safety behind? The idea was repulsive, a dark smudge on the clean, white canvas of my current life.
I shook my head, refocusing on the image of Jason’
