Chapter 3: The Breaking Point

The late morning sun streamed through the curtains and fell across Natasha’s face. She stirred, then jolted awake. For a moment, she did not move. Her eyes scanned the room slowly, trying to make sense of where she was. The bed, the walls, and the familiar scent of her room.

She frowned.

The last thing she remembered was collapsing in the bathroom. She had locked the door. She was certain of that. So how did she end up here? Natasha sat up carefully. Her head throbbed almost immediately, and a wave of dizziness followed.

“Ah…” she let out a low sound as she pressed her fingers against her temple.

The fever was still there. Not as strong as before, but it had not left her. She swung her legs off the bed and stood up, though her balance wavered slightly. She waited until the dizziness passed before walking toward the bathroom.

The mirror reflected a version of her she barely recognized. Her eyes were red. Her skin looked pale. Her short hair was messy, falling out of place. She stared at herself for a few seconds, then she turned on the shower.

The warm water helped, not completely, but enough. By the time she stepped out, the worst of the fever had eased. Her body still felt weak, but her mind was clearer.

She dressed quickly in a brown tank top and a black combat pants.

The kitchen was empty when she reached it. No laughter, no clatter of plates, no Martha’s sharp voice. She made herself a quick breakfast — toast with a little jam and a cup of strong tea. She ate alone in silence, then stepped outside into the large compound.

The compound was alive with activity. Men moved between buildings, carrying supplies. Some repaired broken structures. Others stood guard at their posts. A few greeted her as she passed.

“Doctor.”

“Morning.”

She nodded in response but did not stop. Her focus was already ahead. The moment she stepped into the clinic, she froze.

Josh sat on one of the beds. In his arms was Evelyn. She clung to him tightly, her body pressed against his chest as if she needed his warmth to stay steady. She wore a thin nightdress that was clearly not meant for public spaces.

Josh held her carefully, his arms wrapped around her as though she might break if he let go. His expression was full of concern. Beside them stood Martha, her arms folded, her face tense.

The sight struck Natasha harder than she expected. “What happened?” she asked. Her voice was quieter than usual. The weakness from her fever still lingered.

Martha turned immediately. “Evelyn has been shivering since morning,” she said. “She is not like you, Natasha. She does not have your kind of endurance.”

Natasha ignored the tone.

She stepped forward and reached for Evelyn’s wrist. Her fingers rested against her pulse. Evelyn let out a soft sound and leaned further into Josh, pressing her face against his neck.

Josh tightened his hold on her instantly. “Be gentle, Nat,” he said. “She is scared.”

Natasha did not respond. She reached for the thermometer and checked Evelyn’s temperature.

A few seconds passed—Then she looked up. “She does not have a fever,” Natasha said calmly. “She needs rest. That is all.”

Martha’s expression hardened. “How can you say that so easily? Look at her. She is trembling. Not everyone is built like you.”

Natasha inhaled slowly. “I also have a fever,” she said. “And I am still standing here. Besides, Evelyn is also a doctor, why are you making an issue out of this?”

Josh did not reply. He didn't look at Natasha either. He just spoke. “You will be fine,” he said. “You always are. I took care of you last night. Now focus on Evelyn. As you can see, she needs help.”

Natasha stared at him, and something inside her shifted.

Martha stepped closer to Evelyn and gently ran her fingers through her hair. Her expression softened in a way Natasha had never seen directed at her. Evelyn closed her eyes slightly, leaning into the attention.

Natasha watched them. She knew the history. Martha and Evelyn’s mother had been close for years. That was how Evelyn and Josh met. They had once been together. And now Evelyn was back. Natasha could see it clearly.

The way Martha treated her. The way Josh held her. The way Evelyn allowed it. She turned away briefly and picked up a small container of medication. And then she walked back and handed Evelyn the pills. “Take these,” she said. “You will feel better soon.”

Before Evelyn could respond, Martha took the pills from Natasha’s hand. “Thank you,” Martha said, though her tone did not carry warmth.

She helped Evelyn stand.

Josh supported her as they moved toward the door. Evelyn held onto him, her steps slow and careful, as if she truly lacked strength.

Natasha stood where she was and watched them leave. The door closed behind them. And silence filled the clinic.

Josh remained. He stood there for a moment before turning to her. “Do you need a doctor?” he asked.

Natasha let out a quiet, tired breath and sat down. “I am the doctor, Josh,” she said. “The only one left since Evelyn is sick.”

Josh did not respond.

Natasha picked up a glass of water and swallowed a pill. Then she looked at him. “I need to ask you something,” she said.

Josh shifted slightly. “What is it?”

Natasha held his gaze. “Are you sleeping with Evelyn?”

The question hung in the air. Josh’s expression changed instantly. “What?” he said.

Natasha did not look away. “I see the way you look at her,” she continued. “I see how much time you spend with her.”

Josh frowned. “Is that what you think?”

“Then what is it?” she asked. Her voice was calm, but there was tension beneath it.

She stood up slowly and walked toward him. Josh was taller, and stronger. But Natasha did not step back. She stopped in front of him. “When was the last time you joined us in clearing the blocks? Most of the streets still remain untouched. When was the last time you went out with the men?” she asked.

Josh did not answer. His silence was enough, and Natasha felt it. She had been holding this in for far too long now. But she was done staying quiet. “I am your wife,” she said quietly. “But lately, I feel like I am not even part of your life.”

Josh looked away. Natasha studied his face. “Look at me,” she said.

He did not. That hurt more than anything else. “You cannot even deny it,” she continued. “That tells me everything I need to know.”

Josh exhaled slowly. “You are reading too much into this.”

“No,” Natasha replied. “I am finally seeing it clearly.” Her voice did not rise, but it carried weight.

She stepped back slightly. “If there is something going on, say it,” she said. “I deserve that much.”

Josh remained silent, but Natasha waited. She gave him time—wanted the truth, but it did not come. Instead, the silence stretched between them again. And this time, it felt like something had already broken.