Beautifully Broken

I pull the plug and then grab a towel. “Get out,” I whisper.

Cara steps out of the bath, and as she moves into the towel I’m holding open, she looks down at the floor. I wrap the fabric around her body. Grabbing another towel, I dry her hair, and when I glance down, the desolate look on her face takes another swing at my heart.

Unable to stop myself, I wrap my arms around her and hold her tightly to my chest. “It’s going to be okay, baby. You’ll get through this,” I say, trying to give her some kind of encouragement.

“You know what sucks?” she whispers, her tone hollow.

“What?”

She presses herself closer to me and then whispers, “It’s not being stuck in the darkest hole while the rest of the world is standing in the sun. It’s not feeling the cruel bite of loneliness while being surrounded by people. It’s not being so exhausted that no amount of sleep helps.” Her voice cracks, but she forces the words out, “It’s like a cancer eating away at my soul. It’s devouring every sliver of light. I can’t, Damian. I have nothing left to fight with.”

My arms tighten around her. “You have me. Let me help carry the weight. Just don’t give up on me.”

Her body jerks, and then she presses her face against my shirt, and she breaks in my arms.

“I’ve got you, baby,” I murmur as I press a kiss to her wet hair. “Just lean on me. I’ll get you through this.”

CARA

The doctor is old, and his touch is gentle as he removes the clips.

“It’s healing nicely, Mrs. Jackson. Just keep cleaning it for a while longer. Come see me if it starts to itch or turns tender and red,” the doctor says.

“Okay,” I whisper as I sit up, pulling my shirt down. “Thank you.” I give him an awkward smile and then leave the room.

When I walk into the tiny reception, Damian immediately rises to his feet. “Thank you,” he says to the receptionist, and then he takes hold of my hand, linking our fingers.

“Enjoy your day, Mr. and Mrs. Jackson,” the receptionist calls out cheerfully.

I’m now using the identity of Nina Jackson while Damian’s Alex Jackson. Once again, we’re married.

“It feels weird being called Mrs. Jackson,” I say as we climb into the car.

Damian steers the vehicle onto the main road before he says, “We need to practice the new names. We don’t want to slip up in public. So you have to call me Alex, and I’ll call you Nina.”

“So we’re married… again?” I can’t help but ask.

“Yeah.” His eyes flit to mine before he continues, “I thought it would be safer to just make us a married couple.”

“Oh.” I slump back against the seat, not sure how I feel about it. “So … do we have a real marriage certificate?”

“As real as our I.D. cards,” he says. I’m surprised when he doesn’t turn back onto the road that leads to the cabin but instead drives past it.

I let the subject of our fake marriage go and ask, “Where are we going?”

“I want to show you something.”

Silence fills the cab until Damian pulls the car into an empty parking area. He gets out, walks around the car, and opens my door. “Come on.”

Again he takes my hand and links our fingers, and then he tugs me toward a stairway carved out of a rock. Reaching a stretch of beach, waves lazily roll to shore, and the sight makes some of the tension leave my body.

“It’s so beautiful,” I murmur. “And peaceful.”

“I thought you’d like it,” Damian says, and then he pulls me closer to the water. Crouching in front of me, he slips my shoes off and rolls my pants up to my knees before he does the same with his own.

When we step into the cold water, I give him a look, silently asking what now?

He turns his gaze to the horizon. “I know you feel lost in an ocean of pain, but just for a minute, I want you to focus on what I say.”

I feel uncomfortable with the direction the conversation is heading in, so I glance at the ocean as well.

“Do you feel the cold water lapping at your legs?”

I frown but answer anyway, “Yeah?”

“That means you have legs to be grateful for. You can walk.”

Emotion trickles into my heart as I brush some hair from my face.

“Do you feel that breeze?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Do you feel the sun on your face?”

I pull my hand free from his as the word drifts over my lips, “Yes.”

“Do you see the blue of the ocean?”

It becomes too much, and I turn around to walk back to the car, but then Damian says, “There are hundreds of people who would’ve given anything to see it one last time. There are many who would’ve done anything to take just one more step.”