The Sick Wife by Lost Loretta (motivational books to read .TXT) 📕

the hospital several hours later. A random passerby called for help and saved me, and I had to get some scans of my head done before they could release me.

“What did you do to yourself?” she asks softly.

“Nothing, really. I just got the hell out, like you told me to.”

“Did you do this just to get revenge on me for yelling at you?” she asks. “Gabe… I’m so sorry. I don’t know how difficult things were for you when I was in the hospital. I don’t care if you got close to Milla. I’m glad she was there for you.”

“Yeah,” I say gruffly.

“Come here.”

She opens her arms to hold me, and I go to her and let her comfort and take care of me. See, that’s the benefit of having a wife. I don’t mind the fact that my face is busted open and I’m swollen and disgusting with stitches. She’s seen me in every possible state. I know that she’ll love me at my worst.

But the thing with Milla is so new, just a few months… I think I would terrify her if she saw my face all busted up like this. I don’t know if she’s really ready to love me in my darkest moments like Evie is. There’s definitely something precious about the security of having a wife you’ve been with for years, instead of a brand new girlfriend, or fiancé.

You don’t need to worry about impressing the wife, really. You can come home from the hospital with your face smashed open and that’s just a normal day. I would never let Milla see me on video call like this. And I don’t really want to tell her all the details about what’s been happening, either. I know it’s creating a lot of distance between us… but it’s probably better that she doesn’t worry.

Maybe it’s even better that she moves on, and forgets about a toxic fucker like me.

How would she ever think I’d be a good father if I told her about this? I would seem unstable, chaotic, dangerous. It’s immature, self-destructive behaviour. I know she wouldn’t expect that from the sophisticated professor and writer she fell in love with. I’ve told her about some of the darker moments of my past, but she hasn’t really seen me like this so far. My life wasn’t always easy and glamorous.

Anyway, I am amazed by the face that Yvette is actually feeling well enough to take care of me a little. Maybe it’s just because she feels bad for kicking me out of my own house that she’s trying. It’s not the first time she’s done that, not the first time I’ve gone wandering the streets at night with a bottle of wine, looking for a fight—and it probably won’t be the last. This is just how we’ve always been.

It’s a mess, and it’s not always healthy between us. Sometimes we don’t seem to work at all. But it’s my mess, and it means a lot to me that we are both still here, after everything. After all the time apart, all the fights, all the cheating. We both always come home to each other. Sometimes, I do feel that the right thing to do is stay with Yvette. Especially when I talk to her parents, or my own family, and they are so happy to see us back together.

This marriage isn’t just about us—it’s about our loved ones and social circle too. There is so much I would lose if I lost Yvette or ended things between us. So many people, so much respect. But sometimes, I just don’t care. Sometimes I want to throw it all away, burn it down to ashes, and start over new. Something doesn’t feel the way it should. At the end of the day, Evie doesn’t want to have children, and I really do.

There’s so much I could gain by starting a different life. Things I really want and need.

“My poor Gabe,” Evie says, kissing my injured head. “What kind of trouble did you get into this time?”

“Just a fight with some guys,” I explain to her.

“Honestly, you will be the death of me,” she says with a sigh. “What did they say at the hospital?”

“I’m fine,” I tell her. But my head is pounding fiercely.

It turns out that I didn’t get any brain damage from getting drunk and getting the shit kicked out of me by random street thugs. This surprised me, because I definitely feel severely brain damaged. I know that I am completely fucked in the head.

But my MRI was perfectly normal.

I’m just in love.

Chapter 30

I have been trying to get some writing done in my office today, while Yvette has hours of physical therapy. Her new trainer, Lukas, seems to have some methods that are really helping her. She’s been making faster progress in moving around while using a walker for support. Her legs are gaining stability, and we hope she can progress to using a cane soon. Her nightmares have also been less intense lately, so I feel like I am helping her to recover and heal.

Now that she can take care of herself a little better, get to the kitchen for food and take a shower on her own, I feel more comfortable taking some time for myself. She has even started smoking again… despite the fact that I encouraged her to use this whole experience as motivation to stop. So, I’m trying to focus on my own needs. I am in the middle of writing a chapter in my latest book when I hear a noise coming from the bedroom. At first I am not sure what it is, but then it gets louder and I realize it’s yelling. Is Yvette fighting with Lukas? I hear cursing. Crying. What the hell?

I finish typing my sentence with a deep sigh, and save my work before getting up. I move across the house quickly to check what’s happening. I find Yvette struggling to