Divorced, Betrayed, and Ready to Ruin Them

1: 1

I sprained my ankle while we were out shopping. My brother cut his finger.

When Nellie Winfield got there, she went to him first.

I sat in a chair by the pharmacy door and watched her crouch on the floor, cradling my brother's hand while she dabbed on iodine.

"Does it hurt? How were you so careless?"

My ankle was swollen too much to fit my shoe.

Ten minutes later she came over and handed me a bottle of water.

"I'll take your brother home first. That cut needs a dressing or it could get infected. Wait here ten minutes and I'll come right back for you."

I waited forty.

A message popped up from Charlie:

"Chris! Nellie's coming to get you right now!"

"Is your foot okay? I feel so bad for you."

"Nellie is such a good person. You're so lucky."

I looked at those three messages and let out a small laugh.

When I was little, if it rained, Dad's umbrella always went to him first.

The year of his placement exams, he couldn't sleep, so Mom made me give up my single room.

Every time he'd say, Chris, I feel so guilty.

But after the guilt, he never once gave anything back.

Nellie finally arrived.

"Come on, let's get you home and ice it."

I didn't move.

"Nellie, I don't want to wait out your ten minutes."

"…"

She stared at me for a few seconds, then reached out to help me up.

"When you've finished acting out, we're going home. Your foot needs ice."

I dodged her hand and pulled myself up against the pharmacy's glass door.

The moment my right foot touched down, a stabbing pain shot up from my ankle. I gripped the door frame, cold sweat breaking across my forehead.

Nellie frowned and stepped forward to steady me.

Then her phone rang.

Charlie's voice came through, close to tears. "Nellie, I think my hand's bleeding again. Can you come take a look?"

Nellie's hand stopped in midair.

She gripped the phone, brow creasing slightly. "I have to go back. Charlie's blood doesn't clot well, this isn't just an ordinary cut. You know his body's different. There's no need to make an issue out of something like this."

"I'm not making an issue of it."

I opened the ride app, my voice level. "Go."

Nellie didn't leave right away.

She seemed thrown by how calm I was, staring at me for a moment before she said quietly, "A minute ago you said you didn't want to wait, and now you're telling me to go. Christopher Matthews, what exactly do you want me to do?"

"Suit yourself."

A cab pulled up at the curb, and I made my way toward it slowly, one hand on the wall.

Nellie took two steps after me. Then Charlie called again.

Her feet stopped. In the end she turned, walked to the car parked at the curb, and drove off.

Half an hour later, the doctor finished reading the scans and told me to keep it immobilized for at least three weeks.

"Where's your family?"

"There isn't any."

The doctor looked up at me. "A torn ligament is no small thing. Stairs will be hard on your own. You should let someone at home know."

Before I could answer, a voice message from my mother came through.

"Chris, did you get into it with Nellie again? Charlie called me. He said she was only a few minutes late because he got hurt. Your brother isn't well. What's the harm in giving in to him?"

Then a message from my father.

"Charlie's birthday dinner is tomorrow night. Don't sit there sulking. He just came out of a relationship and can't handle being upset."

I turned the phone off.

When I got home in the cast, the living room light was on.

Nellie was sitting on the couch, a plate of food gone cold in front of her.

She saw the cast and shot to her feet. "How did you hurt it this badly?"

I moved toward the bedroom on my crutches. "Torn ligament."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"You were taking care of Charlie."

She grabbed hold of a crutch and lowered her voice. "I went back the second his hand was dressed. The people at the pharmacy said you'd already left. Christopher, I looked for you for two hours."

"So?"

"Am I supposed to be moved that you looked for me?"

The guilt faded from her face, replaced by that familiar helplessness.

"You're too hostile toward Charlie. He's your brother. We're all going to be one family, and you can't keep forcing me to choose."

"I won't anymore."

I pulled the crutch back and kept walking.

Nellie wrapped her arms around me from behind, holding on tight.

"After the birthday dinner tomorrow, I'll take you to the follow-up. I got the ring back too. I was going to put it on you again at the party."

Three years ago, on our wedding day, the ring she gave me was a full size too big.

I wore it for three years. It slipped off seven times.

"No need."

Her phone lit up on the table.

Charlie had sent a photo.

On that freshly bandaged hand was the wedding ring that should have been mine.