Chapter 3
879 Words
It was already the dead of night when I got home.
James still wasn't back.
I sat down on the sofa, booted up my computer, and printed out a document I'd drafted.
At two o'clock in the morning, the rattle of a key turning and the click of the front door opening echoed through the entryway.
James stepped inside.
When he spotted me sitting in the living room, he froze for a split second, then forced a smile onto his face and walked over.
"Emma, why are you still up? Waiting for me?"
He reached out to pull me into a hug, but I stepped out of his reach.
"Grace's injury was pretty bad. She needed three stitches.
"She was all alone at the hospital, scared out of her mind, so I stayed with her a little longer."
James lowered his voice, explaining himself quickly.
"Emma, don't be mad at me.
"I know I bailed on you and left you alone at the wedding today, but I was only trying to save a life, right?"
I didn't say a word. I just slid the document across the table to stand right in front of him.
He picked it up with a confused frown.
The second his eyes landed on the words printed on the page, all color drained from his face, leaving him deathly pale.
It was the Divorce Agreement.
"James, you took that knife for me ten years ago. I've paid you back for ten whole years."
I stared back at him, my voice completely calm.
"I've paid my debt in full.
"Let's end this decently, okay?"
James's hands started shaking violently.
He stared at the agreement, and hot tears spilled over his lashes and rolled down his cheeks.
He lifted his head, and his eyes swam with raw, heartbroken grief as he looked at me.
"Emma, you really… really don't want me anymore?"
His voice came out so quiet it was almost a whisper.
I looked away.
"Just sign it.
"We'll split the assets fifty-fifty, and the Porsche is all yours."
James didn't reach for the pen.
He turned around and dragged his crippled leg all the way out to the balcony.
A marble coffee table sat out there, the same one he'd picked out himself back when we got married.
James stopped right beside it.
He turned his head back to me, and held my gaze, deep and unwavering.
There wasn't a trace of anger in that look, only endless softness.
The very next second.
He lifted his ruined right leg and slammed it straight into the sharp corner of the marble table!
"THUD!"
A dull, heavy c***k rang out.
I shot to my feet, my pupils blowing wide with shock.
James didn't stop.
"THUD!"
He slammed it again.
Blood seeped straight through his dress pants, darkening the fabric before dripping onto the tile floor in thick, heavy drops.
His face was as white as a sheet. His forehead was glistening with cold sweat, but he still smiled at me.
He looked at me gently as ever, like he couldn't even feel the searing pain wracking his body.
"Emma… if I break this leg for good, will you stop being mad at me?"
"THUD!"
A third slam.
The sickening crunch of breaking bone echoed sharp and clear through the silent living room.
"James! Are you insane?!"
I screamed, snapping at him to stop.
As I stared at his blood-soaked leg, the memories from ten years came rushing back, crashing over me like a wave.
Back then, the doctors had handed me three death notifications, one after another.
I dropped to my knees outside the operating room, banging my forehead on the floor and begging that if he pulled through, my life would be his from that day forward.
James leaned against the coffee table, swaying unsteadily on his feet.
His eyes glowed red, brimming with unshed tears.
He looked just like a hurt kid who'd swallowed one too many unfair wrongs.
"Emma, I'll give my life back to you. Just don't push me away, okay?"
I squeezed my eyes shut and drew a deep breath.
"Stop doing that."
I opened my eyes again, my voice rough and scratchy, thick with unspoken emotion.
"I take it back."
A huge rush of air escaped James's lungs in a relieved sigh.
He flung his crutch aside and lunged toward me, wrapping both arms tight around my legs and breaking into loud, heaving sobs.
"Emma, I know you still care about me... I'll be good from now on, I swear. I'll never make you mad again."
I let my gaze drift down to the top of his sweat-soaked head.
Just then, the phone in James's pocket buzzed once.
The screen lit up bright.
It was a message from Grace.
Grace: James, my wound hurts so bad. Can you come stay with me tonight?
James went rigid all over.
He tapped the screen to black it out again and didn't dare lift his head to look at me.
"Aren't you going to reply?" I asked, my voice ice-cold.
"No! I'm not replying at all!" James hurled his phone across the room and held me even tighter.
"Emma, I only want you."
"Okay, then we'll start over and live properly from here."
- Writer
