Three Years Beside Their Bed

Summary

They always called me the crazy one.

The afternoon I caught Cynthia cheating, I dragged her with me over the railing of our fifth-floor balcony. Gravity didn’t kill her. It only turned me into a ghost behind my own eyelids, locked inside a coma for three agonizing years.

During those years, she brought that man straight to my bedside, taking him into her arms night after night, letting the rhythm of their skin become the only pulse in my silent room.

In the first year, her voice would break with a jagged, bitter rage whenever she spoke of me.