My heart hammered against my ribs as I lay perfectly still on the cold kitchen floor. The ceramic dinner plate had shattered when I collapsed, sending pieces of Alex’s carefully prepared salmon across the tiles. I had to fight every instinct, screaming at me to move, to breathe normally, to open my eyes and confront the man I’d loved for 3 years. But I couldn’t. Not yet. The dizziness that had plagued me for months was finally starting to make sense. And the truth was more terrifying than any illness I could have imagined. 20 minutes ago, I had pretended to eat Alex’s dinner while secretly scraping it into a napkin hidden in my lap. Then I’d waited, counting the minutes until he expected me to feel drowsy and confused like always. Instead, for the first time in weeks, my mind felt crystal clear. When I heard his footsteps approaching the kitchen, I’d quickly scattered the hidden food around my plate and thrown myself to the floor, letting the dish crash dramatically. Now I lay motionless, controlling my breathing to shallow, barely perceptible movements.
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