When There Is Nothing Left But Love

As I spoke, I strode over to the stairs. Shouldering Tiffany brusquely aside, I said as I ascended, “I need to discuss some urgent matters with Ashton. Please go ahead without us.”

Tiffany had been raised in a life of luxury and pampering. She was thus unused to the subtle emotions that undergirded every social interaction. She was unable to recognize the extent of our loathing for her from my simple, placid expression.

It was undeniably rude of Ashton and I to evade our guests in this manner. However, I believed our behavior was not entirely unwarranted. The guests had to be deserving of our respect as well.

The bedroom door was left open, so I entered cautiously, hearing the sound of water running in the bathroom as I walked in.

I closed the door softly behind me as I entered, then tiptoed towards the bathroom. At the door, however, I found my eyes locked with Ashton’s.

His eyes were wild and bloodshot, and his entire face was dripping with water. He looked both embarrassed and intimidating at the same time. Water was still gushing in torrents from the tap. I looked up to see that a huge crack had split the bathroom mirror. A few shards littered the floor.

I looked down and was horrified to see that Ashton’s hand had suffered a few gashes that were bleeding profusely.

tugged at my heartstrings. I whirled around and hurried to fetch the first aid

his head. With his unfathomable dark eyes fixed upon me, he seemed oddly contented

while, when I finally lifted my head to dispose of the used cotton swabs, he said hoarsely, “Why do you care

matter to me whether you’re a useless castoff or the epitome of perfection. You’re Ashton. You’re my husband and the father of my children. I chose you

hands tremble in mine. He suddenly seized me and dragged me into

closet. He pulled out a small plastic bag, then stuffed the

Supplement Lozenges, the label read. The package looked familiar. Ashton had been taking these since Summer fell ill. He’d reassured me that nothing was wrong

the years, my doctor has been trying various methods to increase my intake of Vitamin A. There aren’t many others with a similar condition, so no one, including me, really took it seriously. Recently, however, I compared my medical records to the Hall family’s and realized that this is a hereditary chronic illness. There’s a seventy percent chance that I’ll go blind after the age of forty. That’s also

he had long since accepted the fact, but

felt a bitter wave of outrage rising within