He Humiliated Me For My Best Friend

The day I went undercover to expose that illegal factory, Leroy was supposed to be waiting outside. But he wasn't. My calls went straight to voicemail, and I barely made it out alive. Later, he had the nerve to shrug it off: "Winifred, don't look at me like that. My phone was on silent. Zelda wanted to watch a horror movie, and she got too scared to be alone."

The burn of my wounds was nothing compared to the hollow emptiness gnawing at my chest. Before I could get a word out, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "Winnie, let it go. It's not worth making a scene over." He was so certain I wouldn't leave—just like three years ago, when I gave up everything to be with him. But this time, I turned my head away from his touch and said, calm as still water, "Let's break up."

Sometimes it takes courage to know when to walk away. My company had one last opening in Europe. I took it—returning to familiar ground, stepping back into the war-correspondent skin I'd shed for him.

...

Leroy froze at those words, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel until his knuckles went white. Then he let out a soft laugh. "Winifred, don't joke. You can't seriously want to leave me."

Before I could answer, I realized he'd taken the turn away from the hospital. "Zelda's apartment has a pest problem and she's freaking out. I'll deal with that first, then take you to your appointment." There wasn't an ounce of apology in his voice—just an entitlement that had grown in three years. His excuses had evolved into blunt honesty. The one constant? He always, always chose her.

Blood kept seeping through the hastily wrapped bandage on my wrist, the metallic scent mingling with the lingering ghost of Zelda's perfume in his car. I opened my mouth, but the words died on my tongue.

"No need. I'll hail a cab." The car screeched to a stop at the curb, and Leroy pulled me into a quick hug. The kind of hug that used to feel like home—until it didn't last three seconds. "I knew my girl would understand." He all but shoved me out of the car, then sped off faster than he had even shown up.

By the time my check-up was finished, evening had crept in. I was loaded down with prescription bags. Then a little bottle slid out from under my arm and rolled across the sidewalk. I chased after it, cursing under my breath, until the bottle stopped against a pair of familiar leather shoes.

I looked up. Leroy and Zelda. They were standing close, his arm loosely draped around her as he gently massaged her lower belly. It was a picture straight from my own past—back when I'd gotten hurt at the start of my career, and he'd flown in from halfway around the world, abandoning a major negotiation without even stopping to drop off his luggage. On the ride home, I'd teased him about being attached at the hip. But his eyes rimmed red as he laid out dozens of ointments, whispering, "My Winifred is too beautiful. What if a scar ruins that?"

Leroy picked up the pill bottle and handed it to me, a flash of guilt flickering across his face. "Winifred, how's the wound? What did the doctor say?"

Serious. It was deep enough to heal badly, to threaten my ability to use a keyboard, to write. But I kept it inside. "It's nothing. Just a scratch." My voice was ice, my eyes cast down.

He didn't question it. Instead, he started explaining, "Zelda's having terrible cramps, so I'm staying with her while she gets checked out."

Zelda quickly added in that soft, wheedling tone, "Yes, Winnie. You know I don't have anyone else here but you and Leroy. Please don't be upset with me. I'll really try to be more independent and not bother him so much, okay?"

Before she could even finish, Leroy was already taking her side. "Winifred, it's hard enough for Zelda out here on her own. We should help her whenever we can—and she's your best friend, remember?"

I didn't have the energy to fight. Leroy took Zelda's arm and started to lead her away. "She still has another test to run, and I can't step out. If you're done here, you can just head home."

A hot sting hit the back of my nose. My heart throbbed with a pain I knew all too well. For him, I'd walked away from war reporting and settled for tame field pieces. He once promised to love me forever. But three short years had been enough to break that vow.

I pulled out my phone and applied for the last overseas assignment left. Seven days, and I'd be gone. This time, I wouldn't clip my wings for anyone.