A Love Gone Cold
After my husband got into a car accident, he started acting strange and unpredictable.
I went to countless doctors, and every one of them told me the same thing—he couldn't be provoked, and I had to go along with whatever he wanted.
When he said he didn't want me in the master bedroom, I moved my things into the guest room next door.
When he said his childhood sweetheart had cancer and he wanted to spend her last days with her, I even brought her into our home.
One night, when I went downstairs to get some medicine for my stomach, I heard Harvey's voice, his tone oh so tender.
"Katie, you have to live on. If you don't, I'll die too."
Katie's breathy, trembling voice followed. "Are you sure Jenna's willing to donate her bone marrow to me?"
"Of course. Even if she had to die for me, she'd do it willingly."
I froze in place. Tears streamed down my face.
That's right. Five years ago, I had donated one of my kidneys to him. Back then, I loved him so much that I really would have died for him.
But now, all I wanted was to leave.