Page 35 of The Edge Of Us

He was quiet for a moment. Not the kind of silence that judged, but the kind that made room for truth. “You’re incredibly brave to say that,” he said softly. “Thank you for calling me.”

I closed my eyes, letting the shame roll over me. “Last night, I almost… I almost left them. My kids. I don’t even know how I got there. I just—I can’t live like this. And they deserve better than a mother who’s barely holding on.”

“You don’t have to explain everything right now,” he said. “But I’m here. And I believe you. Corinne, I want to suggest something—there’s an inpatient program I oversee. It’s intensive, yes, but it’s designed for people who feel like they’ve reached their breaking point.”

“Inpatient,” I repeated numbly. “Like... a mental hospital?”

“Yes,” Dr. Michaels said gently. “But not the kind you see in movies. It’s a healing environment. You’d have access to afull care team—psychiatrists, therapists, group therapy, even trauma recovery specialists. Depending on your evaluation, we might explore electroconvulsive therapy. We’ve had patients emerge stronger, more stable, and more hopeful than they ever thought possible.”

“How long?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“Six months to a year,” he replied. “It depends on your progress and your needs. It’s a commitment, Corinne. But it might be what saves you.”

My breath hitched. Six months. Maybe more. Away from Kyle. Away from Astrid.

“I want to do it,” I whispered, and even I was surprised at the certainty in my voice. “I have to. I can’t keep surviving just enough to fake it.”

“Then I’ll make the arrangements,” he said gently. “You’ll be admitted in three days. Use this time to prepare. Talk to your family. Arrange custody. Say your goodbyes. And Corinne… thank you for choosing to stay.”

When I hung up, I stared at the screen until my vision blurred.

The kitchen smelled like coffee and cinnamon toast. My mother stood by the stove, slowly stirring milk into a pan. She turned the moment I walked in.

“Sweetheart,” she said softly. “You slept at all?”

I shook my head. “No. I need to talk to you.”

She sat down instantly, her face lined with worry. “What is it?”

I took a deep breath, willing the tears to stay put. “I called Dr. Michaels. I’m admitting myself into an inpatient program. Six months to a year.”

Her eyes filled instantly. “Oh, Corinne…”

“I can’t keep pretending,” I said, the words tumbling out fast. “I almost... I almost left. Last night, if it weren’t for Kyle’s voice, I wouldn’t be standing here. I need help. Real help. And I need you to take care of them while I’m gone.”

She got up, crossed the room, and pulled me into her arms. I crumbled against her.

“We’ll manage,” she whispered fiercely. “You focus on healing. Kyle and Astrid will be loved and safe. I promise you that.”

That afternoon, I sat in the lawyer’s office with my mother beside me as I signed the temporary custody papers. I didn’t even hear half of what he said—just the thump of my heart, the silent scream of my maternal instincts telling me I was abandoning them.

“You’re not leaving forever,” my mom said softly. “You’re fighting to come back stronger. They’ll understand one day.”

.

Three Days Later

The sun was rising when I stood in the hallway, watching Kyle sit on the living room floor with his coloring book. Astrid, only six months old, was in her rocker, gurgling happily at the ceiling fan.

My suitcase was by the door.

“Mommy, where are you going?” Kyle asked, looking up at me with those wide, curious eyes that saw everything.

I knelt beside him, pulling him into my arms. “I’m going to a special place, baby. Somewhere I can get better. So I can smile again. So I can be the mommy you deserve.”

His little brows furrowed. “You’re sick?”

“In here,” I said, placing his hand gently on my chest. “My heart is a little sick. But I’m going to get it fixed.”

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