“Mom!” Garrick yelled.
And everything faded to black.
I woke in a hospital bed, vision hazy, sounds too loud. Monitors beeped beside me. Tubes ran into my arm. And Aveline, my mother-in-law, sat in the chair, face calm but serious.
“Jocelyn, you’re going to kill yourself if you keep going like this,” she said quietly.
I tried to sit up, pain shooting through me.
“I don’t have time to stop, Aveline,” I said. “The house needs fixing. The kids need everything. I have to do it all.”
Aveline didn’t flinch.
“Jocelyn, the doctor explained it all. You’re on the edge of a stroke. If you don’t rest now, you might not be here to finish anything. The house can wait. But your children can’t lose another parent.”
Her words sank deep, and for a moment I wanted to crumble and sob.
Then Aveline reached into her bag and pulled out a thick envelope. She slid it across the table.
