The casts were not a show.

Neither were the broken bones, the stitches, the bruises hidden beneath my gown, or the chart hanging outside my door with my name across the top.

The nurses had watched me cry when the pain medication wore off too soon. They had needed two people just to reposition my legs without hurting me.

Vincent had always had a talent for turning my suffering into an inconvenience of his own.

Chapter 5 — Eleven Years

We had been married eleven years. When we met, his certainty had made me feel safe — he always sounded so sure about where we should eat, what we should buy, what our future should look like.

In the beginning I mistook certainty for strength.