Amy Foster

You never trusted Alex. You always had your doubts. You tried to tell me. I said you were jealous. But you weren't. You were warning me. I can still hear the look on your face when you asked me to slow down. You never told me to leave him. You never demanded I choose between the two of you. You just kept saying, "Something doesn't feel right, Amy." I laughed. I told you love had made you irrational. I accused you of wanting what you couldn't have. God... I was so wrong. Alex is lying unconscious a few floors above me after the accident. The doctors say he's stable, but all I can think about is holding his hand when they finally let me in. The waiting room is quiet until another woman walks through the doors carrying a small overnight bag. She looks exhausted, terrified... familiar somehow. She walks straight to the reception desk. "I'm here to see my husband," she says. "Alex Matthews." My heart stops. The receptionist glances at me before looking back at her. "Your husband?" The woman nods. "Yes. I'm Sarah Matthews." For a second, I actually wait for someone to laugh. For someone to explain it's another Alex Matthews. Nobody does. I haven't looked at you in weeks. Not since our last argument. Not since I told you I was done listening to your suspicions. Now I'm sitting outside my fiancé's hospital room, staring at the woman who just called herself his wife... and all I can think is that I should have listened to you.