Chapter 3

"I made too much food," Sonia said, stepping aside to let us in. "Ms. Paulsen, why don't you stay and have some?"

After examining her finger, Hugh took out a Band-Aid.

"It's not a deep cut. Next time, clean it first instead of immediately calling me."

She nodded.

"I knew you'd come."

Hugh faltered, but he didn't deny it.

My chest tightened as I braced myself against the doorframe. The smartwatch on my wrist beeped, showing my heart rate had climbed to 137.

"You're turning an ordinary situation into a catastrophe," Hugh said, glancing at it. "Do four sets of deep breathing."

"I want to go home."

"Running away will only reinforce your fear."

"I can't breathe."

"You can," he assured me. "You just feel like you can't."

Sonia sat on the couch, still holding onto Hugh's sleeve.

"Does Ms. Paulsen hate me? Dr. Specter, maybe you should take her home. I'll be fine by myself."

He didn't pull away. Instead, he picked up a paper bag from the coffee table and handed it to me.

"There are anti-anxiety pills inside. Take one if you need it. Sit here for five minutes first."

I stared at the name printed on the bag—Sonia Rafferty.

"Are you giving me her prescription?" I asked, my gaze glued to it.

"It's the same type of medication, and the dosage is appropriate for you."

"What happened to my medication?"

Hugh went silent for a moment, and realization suddenly dawned on me.

"Was the medication in our refrigerator hers?"

"It was unopened," he argued. "There's no issue with who it belonged to."

"You had me send you pictures of my medication every night. You praised me for following my treatment plan, but you never bothered to prescribe medication meant for me."

"I was trying to avoid wasting resources," he said.

"Ms. Paulsen, Dr. Specter is strict with you because you're the most important person in his life," Sonia interrupted. "He's gentle with me because he's afraid something might actually happen to me. You don't have to keep forcing him to choose between us."

I looked at her.

"Have you read my journal?"

The smile disappeared from her face.

"I was the one who told her," Hugh said, putting the paper bag back on the table. "She'd developed an unhealthy hostility toward you, so I needed her to understand that your behavior wasn't directed at her."

"So you used my diagnosis, my habits, and my private life to make her feel better?"

"Zara, calm down."

I turned and walked downstairs, but Hugh didn't follow.

Just before the elevator doors closed, I saw Sonia lean against his shoulder. He lifted his hand and gently patted her back twice, the same rhythm he once used to lull me to sleep.

…

By three in the morning, my anxiety had reached its peak.

Numbness spread all over my limbs, and my heart pounded against my ribs.

I called Hugh, but he didn't answer. I called him again, and this time, the call was rejected.

He sent me a message instead.

"Unless it's an emergency, try to calm yourself down first."

I stared at the words and forced myself through the techniques I'd learned—counting the furniture around me, running my fingers along the walls, drinking cold water.

Ten minutes later, Sonia posted an update. She was sitting in an emergency room, hooked up to an IV.

At the bottom of the photo, Hugh's hand was visible on her arm, as if he were trying to make sure the needle didn't hurt.

The caption read, "Thank God you're always there when I turn around."

The throbbing in my chest suddenly stopped.

…

The next morning, Hugh came home to find me packing my bags. He reached out and pressed down on the lid of my suitcase.

"You didn't keep calling me last night. Good job."

I asked, "Why did Sonia end up in the ER?"

"Medication overdose."

"Whose medication?"

"The medication you hadn't been taking," he replied. "She took it while I wasn't looking. It was an accident."

I looked at him.

"The medication was in our home. How did she get into our house? And how did she know where it was?"

I pushed his hand away and opened the desk drawer. Sure enough, my journal was gone.

All that remained was the ring box I'd bought three months ago. The lid had been opened, and the ring was gone.

"Sonia came over last night, and she was distraught," Hugh explained in a low voice, standing in the doorway. "She may have taken something by mistake."

I pulled out my phone and called her. He reached for it and tried to stop me, but the call had already connected.

"You mean the ring?" Sonia's sluggish voice came through the receiver. "Dr. Specter put it on my finger last night."

She chuckled.

"He said it would help me believe that, at least for tonight, I wouldn't be abandoned."

A video call request appeared on my screen, and I accepted it.

On the other end of the line, Sonia held up her left hand. The ring I'd bought to propose to Hugh was sitting on her ring finger.