When a car crash claims the lives of their partners, Ezra and Imani are left reeling as they discover their loved ones died while holding hands. With accusations of an affair and betrayal flying, they're thrown together into grief and anger. Ezra's...
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5
Imani
I stumble through the hospital doors, my feet carrying me forward as if on autopilot. The world around me is a blur, a hazy fog of nothingness. My heart beats so fast, and my ears ring; the halls are so suffocating I can't dissect a smell. People move around me, their voices merging into a ringing sound, and I can't register anything else, trapped in a fog of shock, unable to comprehend what is happening.
I meet a nurse, my words stuttering when I mention Tyler's name. I am shaking; my whole body is shaking and freezing. All I want to see is Tyler. The nurse asks me to follow her. I walk behind her, ears still ringing, and legs trembling. Each step I take feels heavy, as if I'm wading through an endless hallway. Tears blur my vision, making the already blurry world before me even more distorted. My heart continues to hammer in my chest. The nurse stops in front of a door, and the first thing I hear is shattered crying. I almost hesitate, my feet rooted in the doorway.
Why are people going inside the room the nurse is taking me? Panic claws at the edges of my mind, threatening to shatter what little composure I have left. I walk past them, past the couple clutching each other, the woman sobbing loud enough that I feel it in my body. I clutch at my chest, desperately trying to steady my racing pulse. I just want to see Tyler. I hope he is okay. He has to be okay.
I step into the room. As I walk in, a wave of chill floods over me, sinking into my bones. Someone stands quietly in the dark corner, but I don't care. I start to ask the nurse to take me to see my husband, that I don't understand why she is bringing me to this room.
She stands in front of a table. My steps falter as I move closer, the air thick with an unbearable heaviness. Steady hands reach out, hesitating for a fraction of a second before making contact with the sheet that shrouds a lifeless body. When the nurse pulls the cover back for me, my breath hitches in my throat.
I stumble back so fast I collide with the wall. My eyes fall on the table, on Tyler's face and his still body. Half of his bloody face is swollen, and the other is all bruises. There is a large gash on his forehead. He looks almost unrecognizable.
No. No. It's not him. It's not him.
I glance at the nurse, shaking my head. "That's not him," the words come out trembling. Tears are already streaming down my eyes. "That's not my husband. No." I shake my head again, refusing to believe it.
"I'm so sorry for your loss," the nurse replies with remorse. "He died on impact. There was nothing we could have done."
"No!" My voice grows loud. "It's not him. Look!" I rush forward to the table, to tell her that the man lying on the table is not Tyler. My husband is alive and we were together a few hours ago. "It's not him. This is not him." As I look down at the lifeless body on the table again, I keep shaking my head. "It's not Tyler. It can't be." The face I saw this morning. The face that smiled at me. His face, once so full of life and love, now bears an emptiness.
