Alexander Sinclair Came Back to Fairview Hospital to Defend His Injured Wife Against Her Family’s Demands

I closed the closet door and sat beside her.

The old photograph of the golden retriever as a pup sat on the side table, and Rosalie’s phone lay next to it, dark.

“The dog is fed,” she said.

“He is.”

“The doors are locked.”

“They are.”

She reached over and put her hand on my knee.

I covered it with mine.

“The house is quiet, and no one will ever hurt you again,” I said.