The Surgeon He Left Behind

The charter cruise struck an uncharted reef at dusk, the hull groaning as the ocean tore open its belly.

When the rogue wave breached the lower promenade, threatening to drag me into the churning black water, my husband, Damian, brushed right past me.

His fingers didn’t reach for mine. Instead, he lunged forward, throwing his weight to seize Alyssa’s arm—my best friend, who was clinging to the railing, merely coughing up sea spray.

By the time a deckhand hauled me up onto the slick teak boards, shivering and slick with diesel-tainted brine, I could barely draw breath.