Page 82 of In Every Lifetime
Fai
Two weeks. Fourteen days. That’s how long it had been since that night, since Gabriel’s twisted masquerade, and since I’d come face-to-face with a world where Sarah was no longer in it.
Sarah had been handling it all with immeasurable strength. She had already offloaded most of her caseload to other psychologists, managed a few sessions by phone, and seen two patients under strict supervision. I refused to let her out of my sight; being at her side was the only way I could truly guarantee she was safe. Though, in truth, I suspect that having me constantly there has been the most difficult part of all this for her.
I was herex-husband.
While Sarah was handling it well, I was spiraling.
As excruciating as the divorce had been, the thought of her in danger was a far more potent terror. Gabriel harbored a twisted fascination with her that we couldn't entirely fathom. I didn’t know how far he would go to get to her, but I wasn't willing to gamble on his limits.
He’d been a ghost since he went through that window. There was no trace of him, and the blood samples from the scene hadn't triggered any hits in the system yet. It was likely he’d never been processed as an adult. My mind kept drifting to that folder in the cabin—to the photo of him as a boy. It was cold and clinical, hauntingly similar to my own medical files from rehab. If he’d spent his childhood in a secure facility or a hospital, his identity was locked behind ironclad privacy laws. Under any other circumstances, I’d advocate for those protections. But now? I wanted to tear those laws down if it meant finding out who the hell he was.
I felt a crushing sense of hopelessness. If I couldn’t track him down, my only focus would be Sarah’s safety. We’d been living at Nate’s for two weeks now—which wasn't a hardship, at least where the house was concerned. Nate himself was another story. He wasn't my biggest fan, and I doubted he ever would be. But I’d endure his cold glares for a lifetime if it meant staying by Sarah’s side.
The only times we were apart were for my AA meetings. When I hit four months sober, I’d finally started to trust myself and moved my daily meeting to weekly and a few extra days here and there when needed. But with the weight of the last few months, I was back to a meeting every other day and constant check-ins with my sponsor and therapist.
It felt selfish to step away while Sarah was in literal danger, but I knew I had to protect my sobriety. It was a necessary selfishness. Without it, I was no good to her anyway. Sarah understood that. She was the one pushing me to use every resource I had. The fact that I’d lost the man I thought was my brother had been pushed to the background to make room for the crisis—exactly where it needed to stay for now—but the weight of it still sat heavy in my chest.
I’d lost my family again.
“Hey,” Sarah asked. I looked up from the edge of the bed where I sat. She leaned in the doorway, a worried expression painting her features. Between the long skirt, the sweater, and her braids pulled back, she was the most beautiful person I knew. Though—in my eyes—she always was.
“Hi,” I muttered. With Nate, Jackie, and their spouses away for a family birthday, Sarah and I were alone in the house. I was doing my best to give her some space. Perhaps I was seeking some for myself, as well.
We hadn't addressed where we stood. In the midst of so much chaos, the question of our relationship seemed almost insignificant.
But I was in her bed every night. I woke up with her tucked against my chest every morning. I spent every waking second yearning to be hers again. Forever.
But those damned papers still sat in my desk drawer in my office. Proof of the failure our marriage had become.
Sarah eyed me carefully, eventually crossing the room to take the seat next to mine. She was the only thing keeping the chaos of my thoughts at bay.
“Fai,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
I looked at her, prompting her to speak.
She braced herself and turned toward me. “Are you okay?”
“I’m scared, Sarah,” I admitted, my voice thick. “I'm so goddamned terrified. I’ve forgotten how to live or breathe without the fear of what might happen to you.”
“I’m safe—”
“For now,” I interrupted, facing her fully and lacing my fingers through hers. “But what about next week? What about tomorrow? What happens when you go back to your life, away from me, and I’m not there to stop him?”
“It’s not your responsibility to keep me safe,” She urged.
I shook my head, standing and pacing the small bedroom. “You see, but it is. Everything I have done has been to keep you safe. We’re fucking divorced because I wanted to protect you.”
Sarah closed her eyes for a moment and when they opened my heart cracked a bit more. Her brown eyes were wet with tears waiting to cascade down her cheeks.
“No, no,” I muttered, kneeling between her legs and cradling her face in my hands. One tear fell slowly and steadily down her cheek and I wiped it away with my thumb. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to make you cry.”
She leaned into my touch, a wisp of a smile at her lips. “What are we, Fai?” She asked desperately. “You’re right. You made the divorce happen out of this idea of keeping me safe from you. I filed those papers thinking you didn’t love me. We slept together in that cave… I know you love me and I love you but what are we?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.
“What do you want us to be?” she asked, her gaze bright with a hope I wasn't sure I deserved.
