Unloved Wife, Unstoppable Woman

The twisted metal was the last thing I remembered before darkness took over.

When I woke, the hospital air hung heavy with antiseptic, and my body screamed with fresh injuries.

My first thought was of Mark, my husband, the man I' d sacrificed my brilliant career for.

My phone, cracked but miraculously working, trembled in my hand as I called his number, a number I knew better than my own.

It rang. And rang. Then, voicemail.

Panic clawed at my drug-induced calm. He always answered.

An hour later. Voicemail. Again? Voicemail.

My last hope was our son, Liam, glued to his phone.