The Day I Forgot My Husband Novel by Hazel Whitmore _ Novel




The Day I Forgot My Husband Chapter 01

"Natalie, you look awful. Do you want me to call Lieutenant Rourke?"
Natalie stared up at the bright fluorescent ceiling lights for a long time, the blood clot in her brain made her thoughts drag.
Three days ago, she’d collapsed in the hallway outside the theater’s rehearsal room. A coworker managed to bring her around.
"No," she murmured, slowly pushing herself up off the floor. "Don’t trouble yourself."
Ever since the car crash left her with a head injury, Natalie Wren had finally become the quiet, uncomplaining wife Dominic Rourke had always wanted
She stopped complaining when he came home late at night smelling of cigarette smoke and blood.
She stopped turning off his desk lamp and nagging him to take care of his health when he stayed up reading case files.
Even before he headed out on dangerous raids, she no longer bothered to double-check his Kevlar vest or remind him to take his stomach meds.
By the seventh day, she had finally regained a bit of strength.
Using the wall for support, she made her way into the living room, only to be met with Dominic's icy stare.
"Natalie," he said, his voice sharp with obvious irritation. "You’ve been faking sick to get sympathy for far too long. Don't you think it's time to stop?"
She looked at him quietly, a sharp, jabbing pain throbbed in her head as the doctor's warning echoed in her mind. "The clot is deep and pressing against your hippocampus. Your memory loss will only worsen."
The man she once loved so deeply now, with her memory slipping, felt blurred, distant, almost like a stranger
What remained painfully clear, however, was the conversation she had overheard outside his office.
Right after regaining consciousness at the hospital, she’d dragged herself to the precinct, clinging to walls to keep from collapsing, all to find him.
But the voices from inside froze her in her tracks.
"Lieutenant Rourke, a bet’s a bet. That limited-edition pack of cigarettes is all yours."
"Natalie is fiercely loyal, though. She took the full impact for you. She almost died."
"True. But if it weren't for the crash, you never would’ve had a good excuse to transfer Cassia to the squad as desk duty. Aren't you worried Natalie would make a big fuss if she found out?"
"She wouldn’t dare to," Dominic had replied.
Over the click of the lighter's flint, his voice was icy cold. "The crash was an accident, but at least she no longer has the energy to make things difficult for Cassie. I’ll make it up to her financially later."
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to swallow both the searing physical pain and the brutal truth about her marriage.
Dominic took her silence for defiance, irritation twisted his face. "I'll say this one last time. There’s nothing between Cassie and me. Her blood sugar dropped dangerously that day, and she had no one to help her, so I took her to the hospital.
"Besides, if you hadn’t tailgated my car out of jealousy, we never would’ve crossed paths with that vengeful drug dealer. You wouldn't have gotten hurt."
He stood up, he loomed over her, his frame imposing. "Go down to the precinct tomorrow and apologize to Cassie."
A sharp, searing pain twisted in her chest; even breathing felt like inhaling blood.
she’d thrown herself in front of a fatal crash to save him—nearly died for him—and now she was supposed to apologize to the person who had benefited most from that accident?
Another crippling wave of dizziness crashed over her, leaving her too weak to argue.
"Okay," she said, her voice utterly hollow.
Dominic frowned, unnerved by her sudden obedience.
Before he could question it, his phone rang on the table—the special ringtone he’d set just for Cassia.
It blared deafeningly in the quiet room.
He answered the phone. The voice on the line was small and shaky, but Natalie stood close enough to catch every word. "Dom, my chest hurts again. I can't breathe."
"Go," Natalie said, turning away before he could react.
The thin wood blocked her view, but not the frantic rustle as he grabbed his coat—an urgency he had never once shown her.
"Lie still, I'm coming right over," he spoke into the phone. "Do you want anything to eat? I’ll pick something up on the way."
His heavy footsteps hurried down the hall and out the front door.
Seconds later, Natalie's phone buzzed against the nightstand.
It was an old classmate from Mount Sinai Hospital, her voice tight with worry. "Nat, a neurosurgeon from Boston is coming to New York early next month. I managed to secure you an appointment—but I need to be honest. The surgery to remove the clot is extremely high-risk. You might not make it through. You’re really not going to tell Lieutenant Rourke?"
Natalie stared out at the dim streetlights beyond the window, overwhelmed by a hollow, empty loneliness.
After a long pause, she answered, her voice soft and flat. "That won't be necessary. Things between us will be over soon anyway."

READ FULL NOVEL HERE