Page 13 of The Edge Of Us

I had woken up one night to the sound of the front door unlocking. My heart had stopped when I realized Corinne's side of the bed was empty. I ran, finding her standing barefoot in the cold, empty street, wearing nothing but one of my shirts, whispering something under her breath. Her eyes were open, but she wasn't there. She wasn't with me.

It took me an hour to get her back inside, another hour to convince myself that this was real. That my wife, the woman who had built an empire, who had walked red carpets with effortless grace, who had once been the center of every room she stepped into, was slipping through my fingers. And I couldn't stop it.

I was exhausted.

My body ached from sleepless nights, from chasing after her when she wandered, from holding her through her breakdowns, from trying to be strong when I felt like I was breaking too. The only thing keeping me from shattering was the support of the people around me. My parents were here, helping with Kyle, offering quiet reassurance when words felt empty. Corinne's parents had practically moved in, unwilling to leave their daughter's side, taking turns watching over her so I could get a moment of rest. And Natasha... Natasha had taken over LuxeBeauty, managing everything Corinne couldn't, running her social media, keeping up appearances so the world wouldn't see the cracks forming in our perfect image.

But none of it was enough.

I was reaching my breaking point.

That night, after another episode-this one worse than the rest, where Corinne had tried to throw herself out of our bedroom window-her mother took me aside. She placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, eyes filled with a mother's wisdom, with understanding, with something I had lost in myself.

"Allen, you need a break."

"I can't-"

"Yes, you can. And you will."

I wanted to argue, to tell her that Corinne needed me, that I couldn't just leave her, but my body betrayed me. My shoulders sagged, my breath hitched, my fingers trembled where they curled into fists. She was right. I was no good to Corinne like this. I needed a moment. Just one.

So, I went.

I drove to an exclusive club, the kind only the rich and famous could get into, the kind where privacy was a guarantee, where I could sit in the dark and drink myself into something close to numbness. The moment I stepped inside, the low hum of jazz music and murmured conversations wrapped around me like a cocoon. I took a seat at the bar, ordered a glass of whiskey, then another. And another.

Two hours passed, and I was lost in the haze of alcohol when a chair scraped against the floor beside me. I turned, sluggishly, and found Natasha sliding into the seat next to me, her gaze sharp and knowing.

"You look like hell," she said, waving down the bartender. "And I mean that in the kindest way possible."

I huffed out something close to a laugh. "Thanks."

She ordered herself a drink, then studied me. "Corinne's mom called me."

Of course, she did.

"She said you needed a break," Natasha continued, sipping her cocktail. "Guess I'll just have to make sure you don't do something stupid."

I let out a breath, rubbing my hands over my face. "I don't even know who I am anymore, Nat."

She didn't push me to explain. She just listened. And I talked. I talked about everything. About Corinne, about Kyle, about how I was terrified every second of the day. About how I felt like I was losing my wife, like I was drowning, like I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep holding everything together. Natasha didn't interrupt. She didn't offer empty reassurances. She just let me speak, let me unload the weight crushing me.

And for the first time in months, I felt like I could breathe.

When the club started emptying out, Natasha took my keys and drove me home. I was too drunk to argue, too exhausted to care. The drive was quiet, the kind of silence that didn't need to be filled, the kind that felt like a lifeline.

When we arrived, she helped me to the door, pressing my keys into my palm. "You're not alone, Allen," she said softly. "We're going to get her through this. And we're going to get you through this, too."

I didn't trust myself to speak. So, I just nodded, stepping inside and locking the door behind me.

The house was quiet, dimly lit, the air thick with something I couldn't quite name. I moved on instinct, feet dragging against the hardwood, hands bracing against the walls as I made my way upstairs.

When I entered our bedroom, my breath caught.

Corinne was sleeping, curled up on her side, her chest rising and falling with steady breaths. She looked... peaceful. For the first time in so long, she looked like my wife again. Not the shattered version of her that I had been holding together with trembling hands.

I stepped closer, leaning down to press a soft kiss against her forehead. She stirred slightly, murmuring something unintelligible, but she didn't wake.

For the first time in months, I let myself hope.

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