The Intervention

Hadley’s POV

The white ceiling.

God, it was starting to feel like my emotional support ceiling at this point.

How long had I been laid here, just staring?

An hour.

Two.

Maybe three days. Who even knew anymore? All I knew was the clock kept ticking, and the 18th was getting closer…louder.

I reached for the calendar on my nightstand, the one with 18 circled in bright, aggressive red ink. Wedding day