For the first time, I understood how someone's departure could feel different when you could actually see it.
Her shoulders were tense.
Her steps were hurried.
And she never once looked back.
***
That evening, Nigel called.
I stared at his name on my phone.
My husband.
The boy who had hurt me.
The man who had spent years trying to restore my sight.
I let the phone ring three times before answering.
"Mara?"
His voice nearly broke me.
I had loved that voice for twelve years.
It was the sound that had calmed me during thunderstorms.
The voice that read bedtime stories to our children.
The voice that whispered he loved me when he thought I was asleep.
Now I knew it belonged to Nicholas Vale.
"What do you want, Nigel?"
"I wanted to check on you."
"I'm fine."
A pause.
"How's your vision?"
I looked toward the window.
"Everything is very bright. My eyes get tired quickly. Dr. Harris says I'll need time to adjust."
