The past is like rain, dissipating like smoke

Summary

We had been married for ten years. After he saved me from a plane crash, he developed PTSD.

He would tremble at my touch, plagued by nightmares.

He would cry and tell me, "I'll get over this, honey. We'll be able to hold each other again."

I felt so sorry for him. I searched for every possible cure.

But one day, after I had given him his medicine, I saw his best friend pouring it down the drain.

"You're a real piece of work," his friend had laughed. "To keep a promise to her, you're even wi