From Blame to Beloved

ng to d

ard without stopping. Tonight was New Year's Eve, and the sounds of fireworks and celebrat

opular late-night radio show. My heart beat a slow, heavy rhythm against

swered. "95.5 FM, you're on the air wi

wn voice sounding t

a special someone you wa

. "My husband, Liam Hayes. I w

I love it. What

'," I said quietl

ything you want to say to Li

tal. He was always at the hospital. "

u got it, Ava. Here's 'Unconditiona

ittering cityscape. Five years ago, on a night just like this one, a car crash had put my stepsister, Chloe, into a coma. I was in the p

e great love of his life. And

cold glance, every clipped word, every night he spe

s him. My breath caught in my chest

g to keep my voic

harp, impatient. There was beeping in the back

of hope dying instantly. "I was

llway outside Chloe' s room, his brow furrowed in annoyance. He was proba

ripping with disbelief. "What are you, a te

ear's Eve,"

oe is agitated. The doctors think she might be try

say anything el

I gripped the edge of the dining table to steady myself. The mysterious illness that the doctors c

A document was pulled up, its title stark and of

s open. I sat down, my hands tremblin

arest

t to explain, to apologize, to love him in the only way I had left.