The lawyer felt his scalp go numb as he said the words.
How much courage would that have taken? A person, on their own, basically couldn’t bite through their tongue to die. Their survival instinct would make anyone who tried loosen their jaw at the point of the worst pain. Sawyer went to the psychiatric hospital. When he got there, he found Kate’s room full of people.
Cynthia, Liora, and Kate’s former close friends were there. Even Rhea was present.
Kate lay alone on the hospital bed, already lifeless. There was still the faintest trace of blood on her lips.
At Sawyer’s arrival, Madison frowned and said in a low voice, “The doctor checked and found that she bit her tongue in half.”
The caregiver’s face was chalk–white. “I came by to check on her. She didn’t make a sound at all!”
She wondered just how much control that must have taken to keep the blood from flowing and to keep quiet. Just like that, without a sound, Kate had bitten her tongue and ended her life. No one dared imagine it.
Even Lauren, who was hiding behind Rhea, was stunned. She couldn’t believe how ruthless Kate was, even to herself.
Sawyer walked in a tight fist.
over, his gaze sweeping from Kate’s head to her toes. She still clutched their marriage certificate
Madison turned to the others who had come to see Kate and said, “Let’s step out for now.”
Everyone filed out.
Liora’s eyes were a bit red. Although she hated how calculative Kate had been, they’d still grown up together. She never imagined that in her final hour, Kate would ask her for help. If she had known Kate intended to kill herself…
Inside the room, Sawyer had to use some force to pry the marriage certificate from Kate’s hand. He sat in the chair he’d occupied last time, the certificate in his hands.
A sheet of paper was attached to it. The writing on it was crooked and shaky, and every stroke was a mess. It must’ve been something Kate had written after losing her sight. She couldn’t see anymore, so the penmanship was sloppy.

Back home, Sawyer sat alone on the couch, smoking a cigarette. He didn’t cry or show any outward grief. But for some reason, he kept seeing flashes of Kate.
He saw her scrubbing the floor on her knees, her hair in disarray as she brewed tea, and how she rushed off to the next room with a toilet brush.
He saw her grappling with chickens in the chicken coop, standing on a chair to wipe the floor–to–ceiling windows…
One scene after another kept replaying in his mind.

Did Kate love him?
He didn’t know, nor did he want to know. He didn’t care, either.

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