I can see the number of times a person has broken their own rules for someone of the opposite sex.
The number hovers above their head.
Every time they make an exception, it goes up by one.
The number above my father’s head had climbed eleven times for his first love.
After the eleventh time, he pulled the plug on my mother’s ventilator.
So I promised myself I would find a man who would never break his rules for another woman.
Later, I married Adrian Bosworth.
A man whose number stayed a permanent, ice-cold [0]. The most disciplined gentleman on the Upper East Side. A perfect husband who would never make an exception for any other woman.
Until the day of our third wedding anniversary, when I got into a car accident.
I lay collapsed on the bench of the emergency room, blood streaking down my face, my trembling fingers finally dialing his number.
On the other end came the same cold voice I had heard a thousand times.
“I’m busy. If there’s compensation to be dealt with, call the lawyer.”
“If you need care, hire a nurse. Don’t disrupt my schedule with something this trivial.”
Half an hour later, I froze in front of the billing window at Manhattan General Hospital.
The man who wouldn’t even show up when his own wife had been in a car accident.
Was kneeling on the floor of the emergency lobby.
In his hand was a soft white handkerchief, and he was wiping, inch by inch, the mud from a pair of sneakers belonging to a girl with red-rimmed eyes.
“It’s alright, Chloe. Don’t cry.”
There was a tenderness in his voice I had never heard before, something almost humbling, and every word landed on my chest like a hammer blow. I could barely breathe.
“If the cat is lost, I’ll bring every stray from every shelter in the city and let you pick any one you want. Okay?”
One of my hands pressed hard against the bleeding wound on my forehead, the other gripped the railing, and I stared, unblinking, at the space above Adrian’s head.
That [0] that had stayed dead-silent to the entire world.
Began to jump wildly the moment the girl let out a single sob.
[10]…
[100]…
[999]…
Then the numbers collapsed, melted, and finally froze into a red symbol dripping with blood, so bright it hurt to look at.
[∞].
Infinite.
Infinite exceptions, for her.
Something in my stomach turned violently.
So he wasn’t heartless after all.
I was simply never the one he would break his rules for.
He Made An Exception For Her But Never For Me Chapter 01 I can see the number of times a person has broken their own rules for someone of the opposite sex. The number hovers above their head. Every time they make an exception, it goes up by one. The number above my father’s head […]
He Made An Exception For Her But Never For Me Chapter 01 Read Post »
