Vincent
So Nyelle was worried about me.
The thought stayed in my head the entire drive to the office, refusing to leave no matter how hard I tried to focus on something else.
Why?
That was the question that kept bothering me.
After everything I had done to her over the years, after all the coldness, all the neglect, all the times I treated her like she didn't matter, why would she still care enough to panic when I collapsed?
Why would she perform CPR on me?
Why would she sit outside my hospital room for hours? None of it made sense. Or maybe it did.
Maybe I was only starting to realize how little I actually knew about my own wife.
The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth.
By the time I reached my office, I was already irritated with myself.
The first thing I did after sitting
