13
Layne
He gave me the day of my dreams, and he left.
It was all bullshit.
I should be pissed, but I’m not. I’m just tired. Bone tired.
This is the way Dr Layne Zhao’s life ends. Not with a bang, but a whimper.
Okay, now I’m being melodramatic, which is not my style. I pace around Laurie’s tiny guest cottage, picking things up and putting them down again.
I made the right decision. I definitely made the right decision.
Why, then, does my heart feel like it needs help just to beat? Why am I leaking enough tears to float a small boat?
To have swung from such contentment to this can’t be right.
I scrub my face in the bathroom, hoping to wash away the pain, the fear.
Sam might die tonight. Sam might die tonight.
Dear God, don’t let Sam die.
And if he lives—then I still won’t see
