After My Boyfriend Humiliated Me, His Uncle Married Me

I woke up to white ceiling tiles and the smell of disinfectant.

My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. My mouth tasted like metal. And my left arm — I tried to move it and couldn't. When I looked down, it was wrapped in plaster from wrist to elbow, suspended in a sling across my chest.

I blinked. The room swam into focus. Hospital bed. IV drip. Monitor beeping somewhere to my left.

My right hand moved instinctively to my wrist.

The bracelet was still there.

Abuela's jade rosary. The beads were cool against my skin. I ran my thumb over them, counting. All there. Intact.

I exhaled.

The door was closed. Through the narrow window, I could see the empty hallway. No nurses. No doctors. Just the distant sound of a cart rolling past and someone's muffled voice on a phone.

I closed my eyes and tried to remember.

The cab. The rain on the window. My phone pressed against my chest.

Then light. Bright and sudden and wrong.

Then nothing.

I opened my eyes again. Stared at the ceiling. Tried to breathe past the tightness in my chest that had nothing to do with the accident.

Cason's face. The ring on Clover's finger. The crowd's uncertain laughter.

*We're done.*

I'd said it. I'd meant it.

And then I'd gotten into a cab and—

The door slammed open.

I flinched. The monitor spiked.

Cason stood in the doorway, phone in hand, face twisted into something I didn't recognize.

"What the hell did you do to her?"

I stared at him. My mouth opened. No sound came out.

He crossed the room in three strides and shoved the phone in my face. The screen was too close. I couldn't focus. But I saw red. Scratches. Skin.

"Look at this!" His voice was loud. Too loud. "Look what you did!"

I blinked. The image sharpened. Clover's neck. Long red marks running from her collarbone to her jaw.

"I didn't—" My voice cracked. "I slapped her. Once. I didn't scratch—"

"Don't lie to me!" Cason's hand hit the bed rail. The metal rang. "She's terrified of you. She wanted to press charges. I had to talk her out of it."

I looked past him. Clover was in the doorway now, one hand pressed to her throat, eyes wide and glistening. She was wearing a soft pink sweater. Her hair was down. She looked small.

She looked like a victim.

"I'm so sorry," Clover whispered. "I didn't mean to make things worse. I just wanted to check on you."

Mia's voice cut through from the hallway. "Get away from her."

Mia pushed past Clover into the room. Her eyes were red. Her jaw was tight.

"Alma, are you okay?"

I nodded. I didn't trust my voice.

Cason turned on Mia. "This doesn't concern you."

"The hell it doesn't." Mia stepped between us. "You need to leave. Now."

"I'm not going anywhere until she admits what she did."

"I didn't scratch her," I said again. Louder this time. "I slapped her. That's it."

Clover made a small sound. A whimper. She moved toward the nightstand, one hand still at her throat, the other reaching out as if to steady herself.

"I just need some water," she murmured. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She leaned against the nightstand. Her sleeve brushed the edge.

I saw it happen in slow motion.

The bracelet slid. Tipped. Fell.

It hit the tile floor with a sound like breaking glass.

Beads scattered. The jade cracked. The clasp snapped open and skittered under the bed.

I screamed.

Not a word. Just sound. Raw and animal and torn from somewhere deep.

I lunged forward. The IV pulled. The sling caught. Pain shot up my arm and I didn't care.

Mia caught me. Held me back.

Clover's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my God. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

"Get out." My voice was shaking. "Get out. GET OUT!"

Cason didn't move. He looked at the shattered bracelet. At me. At Mia holding me upright.

"You need to calm down," he said.

I stared at him.

At the man who had driven seven hundred miles to see me. Who had danced with me in a tiny apartment. Who had promised me forever.

At the stranger standing in his place.

"We're done," I said again.

This time, my voice didn't shake.

Cason's jaw tightened. "You don't mean that."

"I mean it."

"You're upset. You're hurt. You'll change your mind."

"I won't."

Something shifted in his face. The concern — fake as it was — dropped away. What was left was cold.

"Fine," he said. "Have it your way."

He pulled out his phone. Dialed. Put it to his ear.

"Yeah, it's Cason Stone," he said into the phone. His eyes were on me. "I need you to pull authorization on a patient. Herrera. First name… what's your grandmother's first name, Alma?"

The room went silent.

Mia's grip on my arm tightened.

"Maria," I whispered.

"Maria Herrera," Cason said into the phone. "Cancel the experimental medication. Effective immediately."

I stopped breathing.

"Cason—" Mia started.

"You want to be done?" Cason said. He ended the call. Slipped the phone into his pocket. "Then we're done."

He turned to the door. Clover was already backing into the hallway, eyes down.

Cason paused at the threshold. Looked back.

"Security will escort you out in twenty minutes," he said. "I suggest you get dressed."

The door closed.

I sank back against the pillow. Stared at the ceiling.

Mia was saying something. Her voice sounded far away.

I looked at the floor. At the scattered beads. At the cracked jade.

Abuela's bracelet.

The only thing I had left of her.

Gone.