Chapter 1

I'm a blogger who talks relationship gossip under a pen name, and I connected on a live call with a young woman in the same city.

She said her boyfriend was a married man, and she hadn't known.

I spoke to her as gently as I could, urging her to get away from the danger.

But she loved him so much it had wrecked her, and she wanted to beg for the relationship, to plead for that other woman to step aside.

My phone suddenly rang. It was my husband calling.

I picked up right away and explained the situation to him.

"You're a psychologist, you're more qualified than I am. Talk to her, quick."

But the moment my husband spoke, she went over the edge.

I didn't even know who the girl was, and yet Arthur Sanchez said her name out loud.

So it turned out I was the other woman she'd been talking about.

I wrote my name in the consent box on the transfer form.

Across rivers and seas, I would give them their true love.

1

I shut off the livestream.

Arthur had already hung up, and he said work was busy today, that he'd be back very late.

Not long after, I got a ticket for running a red light.

I screenshotted it and sent it over.

Arthur replied fast.

"A patient's trying to kill herself. A life matters more."

I've always supported his work, and I wanted to do my part for people on the edge too.

That's why I chose to be an anonymous gossip blogger, giving people a place to vent what hurt inside, without ever naming names.

The regulars in the comments would jump in to reassure whoever it was, to talk them back from the edge.

Once everyone found out my husband was a psychologist, they all said we were a match, an angel couple doing good in the world.

Regina Pruitt was pulled back in time. She lay in the hospital three days, then showed up at my door with a thank-you banner.

"Hey, thank you so much for having Dr. Sanchez save me."

She held up her phone, wanting to tell the followers online she was okay.

She wanted a photo with me too.

But I'd never revealed my address. How could she know where I lived?

I asked, and she froze for a second.

"Dr. Sanchez told me. He knew I was struggling, and he was afraid I'd try again."

I stood there big with child, my skin gone slack, and she was young and pretty, all bright energy.

Arthur, who always put his patients first, was home within ten minutes.

"Dr. Sanchez."

She walked to him without a second thought, hooked her arm through his, and even wiped away the sweat from his run over.

To make his commute easier, we'd bought a place nearby.

Twenty minutes on foot.

He'd run home.

A month ago, when my stomach hurt and I thought I was miscarrying, I called him.

All he'd said was that he was about to see a patient and couldn't let them down.

But when Regina showed up, it took him ten minutes. Half the time.

When I got up, I knocked the mic over by accident. Arthur quickly pushed past her and came toward me.

He bent to pick it up for me. "You're this far along. Don't be doing things like this yourself."

Then, seeing I was about to go live, he added, "Everyone's worried about Regina too. Why not have her on the stream with you?"

I couldn't help myself. "Sweetie, aren't you going to go find your boyfriend?"

Arthur stepped in front of her at once. "She just had her heart broken. Don't bring that up."

I gave a bitter smile. So it was me not stepping aside, setting her off.

Arthur caught what I was thinking and said, helpless, "Pregnancy hormones are spiking, and you're clearly overthinking, getting paranoid. I'm not doing this with you."