Two hours later, Ryan arrived, holding a coffee in one hand, his phone in the other, as if nothing had happened. He asked, “You okay?”I could barely speak. “I begged you,” I whispered. “I needed you.”He shrugged. “I didn’t realize it was that bad.” He didn’t understand. He never did.I spent two days in the hospital. My parents took Lily, and Ryan came to visit once, bringing a bottle of water. When I was discharged, he barely acknowledged the severity of what had happened,
His conversation was about work, not me.That night, as Ryan scrolled through his phone, I thought about everything—the lies, the neglect, and how I nearly died while he did nothing. I wasn’t angry anymore. Just numb.I started looking for apartments. I knew I needed to leave. I made an appointment with a divorce lawyer the next day.Ryan had no idea. He went on with his life, unaware that I was already planning my escape.