Chapter 2

Against the mounting pains in my stomach, I toss together a tuna fish salad and sit down to the kitchen table to eat, alone.

My thoughts drift into the past, and I recall Russ’ face. An anesthesiologist. Around-the-clock workaholic. Two loving years of our lives tested against an ambitious career—the knife in our relationship, a year and a half ago.

I slowly close my eyes and see his aquarium-blues staring back at me over the miles separating us. Tears prick the corners of my eyes. I stare around the eerily quiet house. I stab a leaf of lettuce with my fork but I am no longer hungry.

The fork clatters against the side of the bowl. My body starts to shake, my shoulders slouch, and my head falls as I cry into my hands.

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