The Hidden Weight
I moved through the morning in a daze, still grappling with Richard's words. My leg throbbed faintly, a reminder of the accident that had brought us together. I had to find out what was in his pocket.
The tuxedo jacket hung over a chair, its fabric smooth and heavy. I reached for it, my heart pounding. Something shifted inside the inner pocket. My fingers closed around it, and I pulled out a small, cold object.
It was a police badge. Blood-stained.
My breath caught in my throat. Richard wasn't just a nurse. He was a police officer.
How could he have kept this from me? And why was the badge covered in blood?
The questions swirled in my mind, each one more terrifying than the last. I stared at the badge, my hands trembling. The implications were too much to bear.
I had to confront him. Now.
The Confrontation
I hurried to the terrace, where Richard was still slumped in a chair. He looked up as I approached, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused.
"Richard, we need to talk," I said, my voice trembling.
He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't support him. "What is it, darling?" he slurred.
I held up the badge, my hand shaking. "What is this?"
His face paled. "Where did you get that?"
"From your tuxedo pocket. I found it this morning. Why did you lie to me, Richard?"
He looked away, his jaw tightening. "It's not what you think."
"Then what is it? You said last night that if I knew what you really did, I wouldn't be wearing this ring." I touched the diamond on my finger, my hand shaking.
Richard's eyes filled with a mix of fear and regret. "I was trying to protect you. I thought it wouldn't matter anymore."
"Protect me from what?" I demanded.
He hesitated, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle of pills. "I've been taking these to keep the memories at bay. It’s the only way I can function."
My heart sank. "What memories, Richard? What did you do?"
Before he could answer, a loud noise interrupted us. The music inside had stopped, and a hush fell over the guests. Richard's face turned white.
"I have to go," he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Before I could stop him, he stumbled to his feet and disappeared into the night, leaving me alone and terrified on the terrace.
Following the Shadows
I slipped out of the ballroom, the murmur of champagne fading behind me.
The hallway was dim, the carpet muffling my steps as I chased the faint scent of his cologne.
His silhouette vanished around the corner, and I pressed my back against the cool wall, heart thudding.
A muffled voice drifted from a nearby suite, frantic, low.
“Yes, I’m already in the room,” he whispered, voice trembling.
“You can’t keep doing this, Alex! The report is already filed—”
I recognized the name he used for the night of the crash, the same name I’d heard on the paramedic’s badge.
“Listen, I’m covering it. If they connect the dots, I’m done,” Richard hissed, his breath ragged.
“You think a badge in a tuxedo hides the truth? You’re a cop, Alex. You’re a liar!”
My stomach twisted; the badge was proof, but now his confession sealed it.
“I’ll make sure nobody looks at the footage. It won’t matter.”
He chuckled hollowly, a sound I’d never heard from him before.
“You’ll keep your wedding ring, but you’ll never know why you’re bleeding.”
The line went dead, and a heavy silence settled.
I stared at the closed door, my mind racing—how much had he already buried?
The Terrace Collapse
I sprinted back to the terrace, breath burning in my throat.
Richard lay slumped against the railing, the night air cool on his sweat‑damp skin.