Ever since Eloise moved back to Portland, everything had changed. She seeped into every corner of Neil's life, leaving no room for me.

My festering insecurity fueled more and more fights with Neil. My depression deepened, and Eloise was always there, waiting around every corner to provoke me with surgical precision. She knew I was sick, which seemed to make her torment all the more delicious.

On a private Instagram account, she posted a picture of herself wearing a custom necklace, the miniature locket holding a childhood photo of her and Neil. The caption read: "Some bonds are irreplaceable."

Her words were a poisoned dagger, twisting in my heart with every beat.

When I told Neil about my depression, he accused me of being paranoid and over-emotional.

When I had a breakdown and smashed my favorite guitar, he called me hysterical.

When the ache in my soul kept me from sleeping, he said I was just overthinking things.

...

By the time I drove to the St. Johns Bridge, I was so numb I couldn't tell if I was dead or alive.

I stood alone on the bridge, the cold river wind whipping my dress against my legs. My phone screen glowed with the appointment confirmation email from the tattoo parlor. Neil was going to remove the matching tattoo we got when we married—a star chart of the night we met.

I stared at the city lights in the distance until they blurred into a single, sneering laugh.

A hundred-foot drop yawned beneath me, the wind howling in my ears like a thousand screaming voices.

Strangely, I felt no fear, only a profound sense of relief.

My phone vibrated again.

I forced myself to look at the new notification. It was a picture from Eloise: Neil's wrist, wrapped in a fresh bandage.

The attached message read: "He's finally decided to erase you."

My fingers twitched, and the phone slipped from my grasp, clattering onto the pavement.

A passing cyclist glanced up at the sound, his face twisting in horror when he saw me on the ledge.

Just as my consciousness began to fade, a car screeched to a halt. Neil threw the driver's side door open and scrambled out, his eyes wide with terror.

On the dimly lit bridge, my fragile figure teetered on the edge, as if a gust of wind could sweep me away.

He stumbled, his knees hitting the cold, wet pavement, but he didn't seem to notice the pain. He screamed my name, his voice hoarse and trembling with a primal fear.

"Wren! Get down from there! Look at me!" he roared, then snarled at the cyclist without looking away from me, "Call 911!" He began to crawl toward me, his movements agonizingly slow, terrified that any sudden move would send me plummeting to my death.

The moment I was pulled back to safety, he lunged forward, crushing me against him in a hug so tight I thought my bones would break.

"Hang on, Wren. Please. I can't live without you," he begged. I could smell the scent on him, a mixture of cold autumn rain and a strange woman's perfume.

In the hospital, Neil sat by my bed, his fingers nervously picking at the edge of the sheet.

"Wren, stop this," he said, his tone chillingly calm. "Is this what it takes to get my attention? Threatening your own life?"

I stared at him. He was frowning, his expression like a parent scolding a petulant child.

"Eloise's situation is different," he continued. "She developed severe anxiety after getting lost as a child. I became the only person she trusts. We grew up together, and her family always dismissed her fears, so she learned to rely on me."

He paused, his gaze falling on my empty eyes. "Now, she doesn't trust anyone but me. Ever since then, I'm the only one who can make her feel safe..."

His gaze drifted out the window, his fingers unconsciously tracing my IV line as if to prove his point. "Her therapist said it stems from an extreme lack of security."

He turned back to me, his brow furrowed. I met his gaze and saw the exhaustion and helplessness etched into his face.

"It's not what you think between us." A hint of urgency crept into his voice. "She's like a sister to me. You understand, right? Besides, you know her situation."

"You know she's sick," he said, his voice turning cold. "Why do you have to compete with her?"

He sighed. "Don't be like this. You're my wife. That will never change."

Neil gently tried to brush a stray strand of hair from my cheek, then abruptly pulled his hand back. "Once Eloise's condition stabilizes, I'll make it up to you. We'll go to the Greek islands, see those white-washed towns you love, alright?"

I saw his eyes flicker away, the telltale sign he was lying.

"For now..." he lowered his voice, "can you just... be understanding?"

His eyes were full of pleading. "Eloise really needs me. This is just temporary, okay?"

I listened to his so-called explanation in silence, turning my head to stare blankly at the ceiling.

His words seemed to come from a great distance, muffled and distorted, yet they still wormed their way into my ears.

I managed a soft "Mm," my voice hoarse and barely my own.

The numbness of severe depression had robbed me of the strength to argue.

He wanted me to wait, said he would make it up to me, hoped I would understand.

His words were light as feathers, unable to create a single ripple in my heart.

I watched as Neil repeatedly glanced at his phone, inching his way toward the door.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. How laughable. For three years, he had fed me the same lines, and for three years, I had swallowed every one.

"Go on," I said, surprised by my own calmness.

The relief washing over his face was a fresh thorn twisting into my numb nerves. He rushed back to my side, reaching out to stroke my hair.

I flinched away.

"You..." He froze, a helpless smile crossing his face. "Don't be difficult, okay? I'll be back soon."

I watched him turn and leave, his voice instantly softening as he answered his phone. In that moment, something inside me finally went quiet. It was my heart.

It had died from Neil's choices, one after another, from Eloise's taunts, and from my own foolish hope.

The door clicked shut, locking us forever in two different worlds. I slowly closed my eyes, letting the darkness swallow the last sliver of light.

Eloise pushed open my hospital room door, with Neil hovering protectively by her side. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she nervously twisted the hem of her dress.

She bit her lip, her voice barely a whisper. "Wren, I'm sorry..."

Neil immediately moved to support her, his arm hovering behind her back.

"I... I didn't mean to..." Her tears fell right on cue. "I was just so scared..."

She looked up at Neil, her eyes shining like a frightened doe's. "Neil is the only family I have left..."

Neil's brow furrowed in pain as he gently patted her back. "Stop crying. No one is blaming you."

I leaned against the headboard, a silent spectator to their performance.

"Wren." Eloise took a step toward me, then her knees buckled. Neil caught her by the waist with lightning speed.

She collapsed against his chest, her voice trembling pitifully. "I know you hate me," she sobbed, "but Neil is all I have left..."

Neil’s gaze shot to me, sharp with accusation. "She's been through a lot," he said, his voice softening into a plea. "Can't you just be a little more understanding?"

Eloise let out a perfectly timed sob, burying her face in his chest. He held her tightly, whispering, "It's okay, Eloise. It's okay."

I watched him stroke her hair, the motion so practiced, so natural. He looked at me over the top of her head, his patience clearly wearing thin. "For God's sake, Wren, can't you be the bigger person?"

Eloise suddenly broke free from his embrace and stumbled to my bedside. She gripped the corner of my blanket, her knuckles white.

"Wren, please..." Her voice broke, tears splashing onto my comforter. "Just... let me have him back. Please? He's... he's all I have."

She looked up, her face streaked with tears. "I'll die without him..."

Neil rushed over and pulled her back into his arms. "Don't say things like that!"

His voice trembled as he gently wiped away her tears. "You're going to be okay. I promise."

She leaned against him, her thin shoulders shaking. "But Wren... she hates me..." She looked up at him, her eyes welling. "Should I... should I just die?"

"No!" Neil snapped, then immediately softened his voice. "Don't be ridiculous."

He looked at me, his eyes pleading. "Look at the state she's in."

"Wren..." Eloise started crying again, clutching his collar. "I swear, once I'm better, I'll give Neil back to you."

Neil's gaze remained locked on me. "Once her condition stabilizes..."

Eloise shuddered in his arms, clinging to him tighter. He looked down at her, his voice impossibly gentle. "Don't be scared. I'm here."

I turned my head and stared out the window.

Neil sighed, his tone firm and reassuring. "When Eloise is better, I'll make it up to you. I'll take you to Greece, just like we planned."

The moment the words left his mouth, Eloise's body went rigid. She repeated his words as if she couldn't comprehend them, her eyes losing focus. "Make it up to her?"

Her voice turned shrill. "Then what about me? Are you going to stop loving me?"

Neil's own panic ignited. He cupped her face in his hands. "I didn't mean it like that. Eloise, listen to me."

"You liar!" she shrieked hysterically, tearing at her hair. "You're all lying to me!" She pointed a trembling finger at me. "You love her, don't you? You're going to abandon me!"

"Eloise, calm down!" he begged, clumsily holding her as she struggled. "I swear I'll never leave you!"

He fumbled to wipe away her tears. "I was just placating her, that's all. It didn't mean anything. Eloise, I wasn't being serious..."

Eloise's sobs stopped abruptly. She sniffled and looked up at him. "Re... really?"

"Of course." Neil let out a breath of relief, gently kissing her forehead. "You'll always be my Eloise."