I Hurt Myself For Love
Melissa’s discarded pregnancy test was swept into the trash can.
I agreed without hesitation.
If Benedict wanted to play dead, I should play the part of a wife who died out of love, too. With my ten previous suicide attempts on record, the motive was solid. No one would suspect a thing.
I smiled faintly.
I opened the encrypted file and registered myself with a new identity.
...
That evening, as a nurse was changing my bandages, Benedict walked in. He looked at the gauze wrapped around me, and a flicker of discomfort crossed his face.
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