Snowed Nest
My fiance, Wayne Garner, has a rare condition called hyper-empathy syndrome. Yet somehow, I'm the only person he cannot empathize with.
When I develop acute gastroenteritis and the cramps become unbearable, I force myself to call Wayne and beg him to take me to the hospital.
After listening to me, Wayne simply says, "Andrea has a slight cold. I have to take her to the hospital first. Hang in there."
I remember during our first family dinner, Andrea Graham calls him and says she's feeling down, and he rushes off to be with her. I instantly tell him we should break up, but he grabs my hand and keeps promising it will never happen again.
After that, he does keep his promise and stops responding to Andrea's requests for help. I secretly rejoice, believing that staying by his side long enough will eventually correct his misplaced empathy.
But now, the same thing happens all over again.
The pain in my abdomen keeps getting worse, leaving me with no choice but to dial the emergency number with trembling hands.
While I'm in the ambulance, an Instagram notification pops up.
Andrea has posted a photo of herself with Wayne at the hospital. The caption reads, "It's only a minor cold, yet someone still takes the time to bring me to the hospital. It feels so nice to be someone's top priority."
Another wave of sharp cramps passes. I look at the job offer from Warler in my inbox and accept it.
Wayne, I'm really leaving you this time.