Chapter 4 - The Discharge
"Wait, guys, please!" Thaddeus begged, looking wildly between his retreating friends and the absolute wreckage of his life on the table. He turned back to me, his eyes filling with tears. The same tears he had used at our wedding.
"Eloise, I'm sick," he pleaded, grabbing my wrist. "It's a disease. The gambling. I need help. You're a doctor! You fix people! You promised in our vows—"
"I promised to love you in sickness and in health," I interrupted, prying his fingers off my wrist with absolute, clinical detachment. "But I never promised to let you use my life as collateral for your disease."
I picked up my purse and slung the strap over my shoulder.
"You said nobody else wanted me," I whispered, looking down at the broken, weeping man who had once tried to make me feel small. "But the truth, Thaddeus, is that nobody else wanted you. I was just the only one naive enough to try and save you."
I turned toward the exit.
"Wait!" Thaddeus cried out, his voice cracking loudly enough for the surrounding tables to stare. "Eloise, where are you going? The bill!"
I didn't stop walking. I didn't look back.
May you like
"Pay for it with your pity," I called over my shoulder.
I pushed through the heavy glass doors of the restaurant and stepped out into the freezing January wind. The cold hit my face, sharp and biting, but for the first time in five years, I could finally breathe.
