The Love that Kills me

Chapter 8

Half an hour later, Crissa arrived at the shop, the small bell above the door jingling brightly. She was her usual energetic self, a burst of color and warmth in the small, tidy space.

“Good morning, my lovely Hope!” Crissa called out, her voice bright and musical as she dropped her purse onto the counter and leaned over to give Hope a quick, affectionate hug.

Hope managed a small smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. Crissa noticed immediately—she always did. Her friend’s eyes narrowed with concern as she took in the tired lines around Hope’s eyes, the small shadows of worry that never seemed to leave.

“Is there a problem?” Crissa asked, her voice gentle. “I’ve already told you, you should’ve ditched that invitation. Those people… they’re only going to hurt you.”

Hope didn’t answer right away, just shook her head slightly. Crissa sighed and reached over, cupping Hope’s face in her hands and giving her cheeks a gentle, playful squeeze. “There you go,” she said softly. “Smile, Hope. At least for me, okay?”

Hope let out a small laugh, letting her friend’s warmth chase away the cold emptiness in her heart, if only for a moment. Crissa had always been her safe place—the only one who knew everything. How she had once dreamed of marrying Stephen so badly, how she had poured her whole heart into that dream… only to wake up to a life that felt like a slow, endless ache.

Crissa knew every part of it. The hope, the pain, the silent tears in the night. And every time, Crissa tried to tell her the same thing—“Leave him, Hope. Cut the relationship and file for divorce if it’s making you suffer.” But Hope had never been able to listen, never been able to let go of the one thing that still tied her to Stephen: their marriage.

“I love him,” she would always say, her voice small and sad. “I don’t want to end the only relationship we have. I can’t.”

Today, she didn’t say anything at all. Crissa seemed to understand. She gave her a last gentle pat on the cheek and then turned to help her set up the shop for the day.

Together, they worked quietly, opening the doors, arranging the fresh flowers and hand-painted trinkets that Hope sold. Crissa greeted the customers with her easy smile, her laughter bright and free, filling the shop with warmth. Hope watched her, grateful for her friend’s light, even when she herself felt like a shadow.

It was Crissa who noticed first that Hope’s car wasn’t parked outside.

“Where’s your car?” she asked as she finished wrapping a small bouquet for a customer. “Did you take a cab? If you want, I can drive you home later.”

Hope hesitated, her hands pausing in the middle of folding a piece of paper. “Stephen… drove me here this morning,” she said softly, her cheeks turning a soft pink. “And he said he’ll come and fetch me after work.”

Crissa’s eyes went wide, her mouth falling open in shock. “What?” she blurted out, her voice rising. “Stephen drove you here? And he’s going to pick you up? Hope, are you sure you’re not sick?” She reached out, pressing the back of her hand to Hope’s forehead as if to check for a fever.

“I’m not joking,” Hope said quickly, her voice still soft but insistent. “He really did. He just… showed up this morning and told me to get in the car.”

Crissa’s jaw dropped. “That’s… that’s unbelievable,” she breathed out, shaking her head. “Are we talking about the same Stephen who’s been ignoring you for years?”

Hope gave a small nod, her eyes unsure. “I know. I… I don’t really understand it myself.”

A little while later, when the shop was quiet, Hope took out her phone and called Stephen—just as he’d asked. She half-expected him not to answer, half-expected that this tiny kindness had been a fleeting moment, already gone. But to her surprise, he picked up on the first ring, his voice soft—softer than she’d ever heard it.

“Finished?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice just as soft. “I’m done for the day.”

“Stay there,” he said. “I’ll come now.”

When she hung up, Crissa stared at her like she’d just sprouted wings. “Wow,” was all she could say, her voice faint with disbelief.

Hope didn’t know what to say. She just smiled faintly, her heart beating in a rhythm she didn’t dare to trust.

Ten minutes later, the bell over the door rang again. Stephen stepped inside, his eyes sweeping the small shop once, then settling on Hope. Without a word, he walked over and gently took her hand, his fingers warm around hers.

“Ready?” he asked quietly.

Hope nodded, glancing back at Crissa. Her friend’s mouth was still open, her eyes wide with stunned wonder. Hope gave her a small wave, trying to hide the trembling in her hands.

“Bye, Crissa,” she said softly.

“Bye, Hope,” Crissa managed to say, her voice still a little stunned. “Take care of her,” she added, looking pointedly at Stephen.

Stephen only gave a small nod, his expression unreadable. He opened the car door for Hope, waiting until she was seated before closing it and walking around to his side.

As they drove away, Hope kept her hands folded in her lap, her heart thudding so loudly she could barely hear the quiet music playing on the radio. She didn’t dare to look at him, didn’t dare to ask why he was suddenly being gentle, why he was suddenly… there.

But she told herself, just for this one moment, she would let herself believe. She would let herself cherish it, even if it was only for today. Because maybe—just maybe—he might change. Maybe, after today, he would see her. Maybe he would remember that once, she had been everything he’d wanted.

For now, she clung to that tiny flicker of hope, letting it warm her for as long as it would last.