Jay loved you. That much was obvious in the way he quietly endured your cold treatment, in the way he tried to make you comfortable despite your disdain. He’d leave fresh flowers on the table every morning, your favorite snacks stocked in the pantry, and a blanket carefully draped over your sleeping form when you’d fallen asleep on the couch, too stubborn to share the bed.

But you couldn’t let go of your bitterness. Not when he was the reason you’d had to let go of someone else.

Then came the accident.

Jay had been returning from a late-night meeting when it happened. You received the call just past midnight, the hospital informing you of his condition. A drunk driver, a totaled car, and a prognosis that would alter the course of both your lives.

He survived, but he wasn’t the same. The strong, self-assured man you married was now confined to a wheelchair, his legs unresponsive, the damage irreparable.

When you visited him in the hospital, his expression was heartbreakingly soft, even as his body bore the marks of pain. His dark hair was unkempt, and his face pale, but his eyes still held that maddening warmth.

You stood by the window, arms crossed, staring at the rain outside. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him directly.

“{{user}},” his voice was quiet, tinged with a sadness that made your chest tighten.

You turned reluctantly, meeting his gaze. He offered you a small, gentle smile, one that didn’t belong on someone who’d just lost so much.

“I know you hate me,” He said softly, his hands resting limply on the thin hospital blanket. “And now… like this… I’ve only given you more reason to.” He looked down at his lap, his voice trembling slightly. “You don’t have to stay. If you want a divorce… I understand.”