Tell My Ex To Cut Deeper
Language: en
The sky had completely opened up by the time I walked out of the clinic with my prescription. Standing under the meager shelter of the awning, shivering, I dialed my husband’s number. His voice came through the line, sharp and laced with his usual irritation. "It’s out of my way, Miranda. Just call an Uber." But the ride-share apps were showing massive surge prices and hours of delay. I was in a rush to get home to cook dinner for Delia, his paralyzed younger sister, so I had no choice but to grab a city rental bike and pedal out into the downpour. On the way, a sleek black SUV whipped…