All Chapters of Petals Wither: Chapter 1 - Chapter 5

It was near dark. Clouds flamed on the western horizon, lit by the setting sun. I hurried home, eager to be reunited with my husband. Tom had been away on a business trip for nearly a month; the twenty-four days had felt like an eternity. None of his previous trips had lasted this long. The compound was strangely quiet. I saw no one in sight — perhaps the maid was busy in the kitchen and the steward in the cowshed. At the parking lot I spotted two cars, a clear testament to Tom’s presence. I quickened my pace, unaware that an old promise was about to expire. I came to the open door and peeked inside. Tom sat on the sofa across the room. “Hi, honey,” I said, my voice elated. “Finally you’re home. You have no idea how much I missed you.” He didn’t look up. He didn’t match my enthusiasm. He looked at me with different eyes — cold. I dropped my handbag on the sofa and spread my arms. He stayed seated. I leaned forward, crouched to his level, and wrapped my arms around him. Tom mad

The soft clatter of utensils and movement in the living room dragged me out of a shallow sleep.I flung the duvet off and sat up, still in the clothes I had worn the night before. My fingers groped beneath the pillow for my phone. One tap lit the screen — 8:45. I remembered checking the time in the dead of night. I had only slept when exhaustion finally overpowered me around five.I rose and stepped into the living room — it screamed his absence. Then I saw them: the documents I had tossed on the table. His signature stared back at me like a cruel reminder.“Madam… your breakfast is ready. You ate nothing last night. I made this special.”My maid’s voice was soft and hesitant. She had noticed something was wrong and feared that anything louder might shatter what was left of me. She carried a platter of omelette and set it gently on the table.Food was the least of my concerns. My chest ached for something else — someone to talk to, someone who could feel the storm raging inside me.My

“Here, take some water,” Halima said, holding out a glass. I took it with trembling hands and sipped slowly. My throat burned, and the metallic taste of nausea still clung stubbornly to my tongue. I leaned on the counter, my palms cold against the porcelain sink. “You’re not well, Madam,” she said quietly. “We should go to the hospital.” Her concern was genuine. I could see it in her eyes — that quiet fear of watching someone unravel. Then it struck me that I hadn’t treated her well lately — not since all this turmoil began. Yet here she was, patient and kind, offering care I hadn’t earned.By mid-morning, we were already at the hospital. I left the young ladies in the car and walked straight to the registry counter. A woman in a navy-blue uniform looked up briefly from her computer. She greeted me and asked my name, which I supplied.“Do you have insurance?” she asked.My heart skipped a beat. What if Tom had already removed my name?“Yes,” I said quietly.“Which company?”“Bri