Love Burned, She Rose Unscathed

The meal was a feast for the senses, a classic roast with all the trimmings, yet Carlisle squirmed uncomfortably with each bite. As soon as polite society would allow, he made an excuse and left.

The house fell eerily quiet. Roseanne was left clearing the dishes, Hertha's words echoing in her head unbidden. "Murray's got a perforated ulcer."

Her mind wandered. Clatter! A plate slipped from her grasp, shattering on the floor.

Instinctively reaching to gather the pieces, she nicked her finger on a shard. A sharp hiss escaped her lips as tears, unbidden, splashed down onto her hand.

After six years, not just days or months, habits were deeply ingrained in her. At the news of Murray's hospitalization, her first instinct was worry, an urge to visit him at the hospital.

But reason held her back. Roseanne thought she would gradually get used to not worrying and not shedding tears for him anymore.

From the brilliance of their love to the weariness of companionship and separation, the cracks had been forming for a long time.

Maybe it was from his first broken promise or perhaps his first lie. When Roseanne looked back, only fragments remained. Six years could be enough for a touching love story or a tragedy that wasn't worth remembering.

...

Fuming, Hertha stormed down the stairs in high heels. Rushing, she stumbled over some trash in the hallway, cursing the building. "What a dump! It's filthy, absolutely infuriating!"

Her phone rang.

"Murray, what's up? Shouldn't you be resting?" she snapped, still seething, yet her tone softened slightly, remembering Murray was sick.

Murray had just woken up in the hospital to find Hertha had gone out.

"Hertha said she went to find Roseanne to get her to visit you," Cliff explained with a shrug as if it was out of his hands.

Murray's gaze flickered, waiting another forty minutes, his eyes repeatedly darting to the door amidst bouts of thirst and restlessness.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore and dialed Hertha's number. "Where are you?"

Hertha mumbled, "Out."

Murray pressed, "How long till you get here?"

Having failed to drag Roseanne along and not keen on returning to the hospital to annoy Murray, Hertha hesitated. "Maybe I won't come

back. I head home first, pick up the chicken soup Mom made for you,

and..." , kne

"Roseanne isn't with you?" he cut in, sensing something off.

Oops! Hertha sighed. "No."

Murray clenched his jaw. "Who told you to find her? What does my being in the hospital have to do with her? Can't you all understand what a breakup means? Always meddling!" "Yeah, I'm meddling. So, it's just me who's annoying, okay? You two are just too noble and detached to care!" Hertha snapped back, fed up with being treated like a doormat. Murray asked again, "What do you mean?"

Hertha scoffed coldly, "Roseanne

said it herself. Your issues have nothing to do with her anymore. Whether you're sick or worse, she wants no part of it. She's not

interested in visiting you at vermet

hospital! Happy now?"

"Hello? Murray? Murray!"

The call went disconnected.

In the hospital room, Sadie observed Murray's deep, brooding gaze, then the shattered phone on the floor. Another phone bit the dust! Instinctively, Sadie clutched her newly replaced phone. She couldn't afford to lend it out again.