Rita grabbed her purse, her face gone deep red. Together they walked across the polished marble while employees and customers watched them go. They left carrying nothing.

Not a single bag.

Chapter 5 — Two Sentences

At four o’clock, sitting in my car outside the pharmacy, I powered my phone back on. It erupted at once — more than fifty missed calls, dozens of texts, almost all from Gordon.

I opened the voicemail folder. The first messages were impatient. “Jocelyn, we’re at the register. Bring the card.” The next carried obvious frustration.

“This is ridiculous. Call me back immediately.” Then came panic. “Please answer. They won’t release the purchase. Just come inside for five minutes.” The final ones were pure anger — accusations that I’d humiliated him, demands for an explanation.

I listened without feeling guilty. His outrage no longer had the power to make me question myself. The truth was painfully simple. I needed medical treatment, and he had tried to stop me from getting it.