Chapter 16
16
CATHERINE
C atherine sat at the kitchen table, staring at the half-empty mug in front of her as her fingers traced the rim absently. The coffee was cold, but she didn’t mind. It had been one of those mornings—the kind where nothing seemed to matter, where the weight of everything pressed down on her chest, and even the simple act of drinking a cup of coffee felt like an insurmountable task.
She hadn’t slept well the night before. The house had been too quiet without James’s presence, and yet when he was home, the silence was even more suffocating. Her mind kept drifting back to Lexi, to the guilt that gnawed at her every time she thought about telling her she couldn’t leave James.
Leaving him had felt impossible for so long, but remembering the hurt in Lexi’s eyes made her chest ache. Was she really willing to give up the woman who’d made her feel for the first time in years? The idea of staying with James for the rest of her life made Catherine feel physically ill. Confronting him would be horrible, but she had to do it. For herself…and for Lexi. She wasn’t sure what she would say, or even if she’d be able to say anything at all, but she knew she had to try.
She grabbed her phone from the counter and dialed James’s number, but it went straight to voicemail. She left a message, her voice sounding far steadier than she felt. “James, we need to talk. I don’t know when you’ll be home, but I’ll be here waiting for you.” Her words felt hollow as soon as she said them, but there was nothing else to say.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of empty moments. Catherine went through the motions—checking in on her patients, reading reports, meeting with colleagues—but her mind was elsewhere. Every time she saw a familiar face in the hospital hallway, she felt like she was wearing a mask. She was so used to pretending that she was okay, but today it felt almost impossible to pretend. The weight of her own emotions was suffocating, and the thought of facing James and confronting him about everything that had been eating at her made her feel like she was drowning.
Finally, as the evening approached, James texted her. He would be home in an hour. The message was brief and unemotional, and Catherine felt yet another pang of disappointment that she couldn’t quite shake. He was always so distant, so unreachable, and this was no exception. She was used to it by now, but it still hurt. And now, for the first time in years, she was starting to believe that she deserved better than his cold, heartless indifference. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. She had to do this.
When James walked through the door, he looked exactly the way he always did—tired but composed, his sharp jawline and perfectly styled hair giving off an air of effortless charm. He barely glanced at her as he set down his bag and shrugged out of his jacket, the same detached indifference that had become so familiar in their marriage hanging in the air between them. Catherine swallowed the lump in her throat.
“James, we need to talk,” she said, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to keep it steady.
James didn’t look up as he busied himself with something on the counter. “I’ve got a flight in the morning. You know I’m leaving again. Can’t this wait?”
Catherine’s heart sank. Of course he was more focused on his next trip, his next big case. Of course it could wait—because whatever she had to say didn’t matter. She was nothing more than a placeholder in his life, a wife he could check in with when it was convenient for him.
“No, it can’t wait,” she said, more firmly this time. She wasn’t going to back down. She couldn’t . “James, we’ve been living like this for years. We’re barely even…us anymore. You’re always gone, and when you are here, it’s like I don’t exist. I need to know where we stand. I need to know if this…if this marriage is something you still want.”
James finally looked up, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. “Catherine, you know I’m busy. You know how important my work is.” He sighed, his voice condescending as he continued, “You knew what you were getting into when you married me.”
Her chest tightened at his words. She knew what she was getting into? Was that it? Was she just supposed to accept being the neglected wife, always second to his career? Was that all she was worth?
“I know your work is important,” she said quietly. “But I’m important, too. I’m not just some…some accessory you bring out when it suits you.”
He scoffed and shook his head. “I don’t have time for this right now. I’m leaving in the morning. We’ll talk when I get back.”
The finality in his words was like a slap to her face. He wasn’t listening…and he was never going to. He was already checked out and moving on to the next thing, the next case, the next destination. She wasn’t even a thought in his mind.
Catherine’s world tilted. The realization hit her like a wave as the sharp sting of rejection flooded her chest. She’d given everything to this marriage—her love, her time, her career—but it would never be enough. And now, standing in front of him, the truth was clear: she’d been living a lie. She wasn’t loved. Not the way she needed to be, not the way she deserved.
The tears came without warning, hot and bitter as they spilled down her cheeks. She tried to hold them back, but the dam had burst, and there was no stopping it now. The pain was partly because she realized her whole life for so many years had been just a lie. But mostly her tears were for Lexi. She loved Lexi, and yet, just as her friend Sinead had predicted, she had broken Lexi’s heart.
James barely reacted to her tears, his face impassive, as though her pain was just another inconvenience in his busy life. She felt herself break inside as she finally passed the point of no return.
“I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered, her voice cracking. This time, those words felt truer than they ever had.
But James was already walking away, heading upstairs to pack for his next flight. He didn’t even look back.
Catherine took a deep breath and finally mustered the courage to say, “Stop.”
When James turned to face her, his hands were shoved deep into his pockets, his jaw set in that familiar, tight line. “I don’t understand why we have to have this conversation right now, Catherine. Can’t you see that I’m busy?” James said, his voice dripping with condescension. He didn’t even look at her. He was too busy adjusting his cufflinks. His words struck her like a slap to the face. She’d spent years trying to make herself small enough to fit into his life, but tonight, she was done.
“Busy?” Catherine repeated, her voice barely above a whisper, but the fire in it was unmistakable. “I’m always busy, James. I’m always running on empty, always taking care of everything—my patients, the house, us . And what do I get in return? Nothing. Nothing but your ego and your absence.”
James finally looked at her, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. "What do you want from me, Catherine?" he demanded, his tone sharp, almost mocking. "You knew what you were signing up for when you married me. You knew that my career comes first."
The words hit her like a battering ram. She'd heard them a hundred times before, but tonight, they broke something inside her. She'd spent so many years convincing herself that this marriage was enough. But it wasn't. It never had been.
"You're right," she spat, her voice rising with a sudden intensity that surprised even her. "I did know what I was signing up for. But I didn't sign up for this. I didn't sign up for you treating me like I'm invisible. Like I'm an afterthought in your life. I didn't sign up for a marriage where I'm just here for show."
James's face darkened. "That's not fair," he muttered, though the defensive edge in his voice betrayed him. "You know how much I do for this family. I've made a name for myself in this field. I've worked hard to provide for us. What more do you want from me, Catherine?"
The words sent a bitter laugh bubbling up from her chest. "More? You think I want more from you? I don't want your money, James. I don't want your accolades or awards. I wanted you. I wanted the man I married. I want someone who sees me, who hears me. But all I get from you is the back of your head when you walk out the door and the sound of your voice when you're telling me how busy you are."
James's eyes flashed with irritation and his jaw tightened. He took a step forward, but Catherine stood her ground. She wasn't going to let him diminish her anymore.
"I've given you everything I have," she continued, "and I've watched you walk away from me every single time. You're so wrapped up in your own world that you can't see what's right in front of you."
James's lips curled into a smirk, laced with contempt. "Oh, so now it's all my fault? You're the perfect wife, the perfect surgeon, the perfect everything, right? Maybe if you weren't so consumed with your own self-righteousness, you'd realize that I've had my hands full, too." His voice dropped, dripping with sarcasm. "It's hard to be a successful consultant when you have to come home to a wife who wants a goddamn parade for every little thing."
That hit her like a punch. He'd never once understood the sacrifices she'd made—the hours spent in the operating room, the sleepless nights. He saw her only as an extension of his life, a background character in his grand story.
"You think I want a parade?" Catherine's voice was low now, but the anger behind it burned brightly. "I don't want your praise or your hollow compliments. I want respect. I want to be seen. I want to feel like I matter to someone. But not to you, who can't be bothered to even listen when I'm telling you how I feel."
The finality in her words hit both of them. James was silent for a moment, his face a mask of indifference, but Catherine could see the flicker of something in his eyes—something between frustration and disbelief.
"I've been pretending for so long, James," she continued, her voice a soft, painful whisper. "Pretending that everything is okay. Pretending that I'm okay. But I'm not okay. I haven't been for a long time."
The confession hung in the air between them, thick and raw. James seemed at a loss for words, as if she'd finally pierced the armor he'd built around himself. But instead of softening, he snapped.
"Well, if you're so unhappy, maybe you should leave." The words were sharp, more of a challenge than an offer. "I'm not going to sit here and listen to you complain about how terrible your life is while I'm making a difference in the world."
Catherine recoiled, the sting of his words cutting deeper than she expected. That was it? After all this, all the years of marriage, of sacrifice, of trying to make it work—this was his response?
Her eyes filled with tears, but she refused to let them fall. No, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.
"I'm done," she said, her voice low, firm, and final. "I'm done pretending. Done being your afterthought. I'm so, so done."
Catherine felt the world tilt beneath her feet. It was almost like time slowed down, as though she could see every fleeting detail in sharp clarity: James's frustrated expression, his hand gripping his briefcase with a tightness that could crack bone, the air growing thick and heavy between them. Then, with a sudden, reckless motion, he stepped toward the door, muttering something about the trip and the unending demands on his time. He was so absorbed in his own frustration that he didn't even bother responding to her, he just pushed her out of his way as though she was no more than an inconvenience as he moved past her. Catherine's body jerked with the unexpected force, her feet slipping from beneath her as she tried to steady herself. Her arms flailed, but it was too late.
The corner of the coffee table loomed before her, too close to avoid, and she felt it—the sickening, sharp crack as the back of her head collided with the edge of the table. It wasn't violent, not in the way that would make her scream out in pain. It was more like a sudden, jolting shock, the kind that made everything go quiet for a heartbeat. The pressure and sudden force of the impact stunned her, and for a split second, everything went dark.
The throbbing pain in her skull was like nothing she'd ever experienced. It wasn't just a headache—it was like something inside her brain was tearing, twisting, and pulsing with every heartbeat. Her vision swam in and out of focus, everything blurring together until she couldn't tell where the walls ended and the floor began.
Catherine's breath hitched and her heart pounded in her chest, racing with fear as panic crept in. She was lying on the floor, her body still, her hands struggling to find something solid to grab onto. But all she could feel was the dizzying sensation of her world spinning, the ache growing sharper in the back of her head and threatening to engulf her completely. Her ears buzzed and her body felt as though it were floating, and the familiar pain of years of neglect and isolation in her marriage suddenly felt like nothing compared to this. The pain in her head was searing, relentless, and terrifying.
Through the haze, she could hear James's voice, frantic but distant. "Catherine—Catherine, Jesus, what the hell?" The words sounded muffled, like they were coming from underwater. She wanted to respond, to scream at him and tell him how much his carelessness had destroyed her, but all she could do was groan. She felt herself slipping further away, her body heavy, her thoughts scattered like smoke in the wind.
"Stay with me, okay? Stay with me," James was saying, but his words barely registered in her mind. She could feel him kneeling beside her, his hands hovering uncertainly over her body, as if unsure whether to touch her or not. But Catherine couldn't find it in herself to care. The world felt too far away, too hazy and distant for her to focus on anything beyond the sharp, insistent pain in her skull.
"Catherine…" His voice trembled, and then there was movement, frantic and rushed. She felt him lifting her, his hands around her shoulders, guiding her body in a way that felt wrong and disorienting. The pain in her head only intensified as she was pulled upright, and she gasped for breath, her body shaking as if it was no longer her own.
The sound of the door opening reached her ears, and she recognized the sense of urgency in James's voice. "I'm calling an ambulance. We need to get you to the hospital." His voice was so thin, so uncertain, that Catherine almost couldn't recognize it as his. But it wasn't comfort that she needed. She didn't need him to apologize or act concerned now, not when it was too late and the damage was already done.
Her head swam again, and she could feel herself slipping, her consciousness fading in and out like a distant, unreachable dream. But she couldn't fully surrender to it. Something in her—the little shred of herself that remained—fought to stay awake, to keep the world in focus, to keep herself from disappearing into the dark.
Catherine was vaguely aware of movement, cool air against her skin, and harsh light overhead as she was rushed through the hospital doors. Her body felt like it was on autopilot, her mind too foggy to make sense of anything. She felt herself being moved, pulled, then laid down on something hard and sterile. The smell of antiseptic was thick in the air, sharp and stinging in her nostrils. There were voices—too many voices—rising in pitch, demanding attention, giving orders. But it was all just a blur to her.
She could hear James's voice now, a low murmur at the edge of her consciousness. "I didn't mean to…she just…" His words trailed off, a string of disconnected sentences that didn't make any sense. Catherine wanted to snap at him and tell him how badly he'd messed up, but she couldn't seem to form the words. Her mouth felt dry, her tongue heavy.
The lights above her were too bright, too harsh. She tried to turn her head, but the pain was too much. A wave of nausea hit her and she gasped, trying to keep the bile in her throat from rising. Her hands curled into fists on the bed, the only thing she could control in the chaos around her.
Someone—she couldn't tell who—placed something cold against her forehead, trying to rouse her, but Catherine could barely focus on it. The rhythmic sound of her heart monitor was the only thing she could hear clearly, the beeps echoing in her ears louder than anything else.
"Stay with us, Catherine," someone said, a doctor or a nurse, though she couldn't place the voice. "Stay with us; you're going to be okay. Just breathe for me, okay?"
But Catherine wasn't sure she could. Everything was slipping away, like she was losing her grip on the world…on her life.
The pain was still there, sharp and insistent, a reminder that this wasn't just some bad dream she could wake up from. This was real, and it hurt more than she'd ever imagined. The thought of Lexi crossed her mind briefly, her heart aching with the longing she'd tried so hard to suppress. But it felt so distant now, like another life, another world that had no place in this moment.
She closed her eyes, trying to fight the dizziness and keep herself from being swallowed by the darkness. But it was inevitable now. And all she could do was wait…for it to pass, or for it to pull her under.