Page 65 of Seven Minutes
“A message came through,” I went on. “From my lawyer.”
That got him. I saw it in the slight shift of his shoulders, the way his grip on the wheel tightened just enough.
“About the separation paperwork.”
Silence swallowed the car.
“I shouldn’t have looked. I know that. I just… couldn’t not.”
The admission sat there, sharp-edged and unavoidable.
After a second, Adrian let out a slow breath. “Eli?—”
“It’s not your fault,” I cut in, because I could already hear where this was going. I turned my head, meeting his profile. “Don’t do that.”
His jaw worked, as if he was biting back something bigger.
“I mean it,” I said. “I made that choice.”
He didn’t answer right away. Just kept driving, eyes fixed ahead.
“Yeah,” he said finally. But it didn’t sound like agreement.
The car filled with that same fragile quiet again, only heavier now.
When we arrived, the therapist greeted me with a bright smile, clipboard in hand. “Morning, Eli! You’re looking stronger already. Ready to show off for your husband again?”
Adrian chuckled politely, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s the real star.”
The session started okay. Painful, but manageable. I gripped the parallel bars, lifted my leg, took one shaky step, then another.
“Good, Eli,” Cindy said. “That’s it.You’ve got this.”
Adrian stood behind me,not in the lobby, eyes glued to every movement like he could catch me if I fell with just a thought. His hand twitched at his side every time I wobbled.
By the third rep, my legs were shaking.
By the fifth, I couldn’t tell if the tremor came from pain or irritation.
Cindy’s voice floated somewhere to my left, calm and positive. “Take a breath, Eli. We can stop there.”
“I’ve got it,” I said, gripping the bars tighter. My arms ached from holding on, but I didn’t let go. Couldn’t.
“Eli,” Adrian warned from behind me, that clinical edge in his voice creeping in. “Don’t push it.”
“I said I’ve got it.”
Every step I took was a battle between what my body could manage and what my heart refused to accept. I needed to know I could do this on my own, without him. If things went south, if Adrian couldn’t keep his promise andreallychange things this time, I needed to be able to stand on my own two feet, literally.
Another step. My thigh seized. My vision blurred. I blinked through it, jaw locked.
“Eli, stop,” Adrian snapped.
The therapist reached out, but Adrian was faster, catching my arm just as my knee buckled.
Pain flared sharp and hot, and I gasped as the world went askew.
“For God’s sake,” he hissed, easing me into the chair. “What are you trying to prove?”
