Page 144 of The Widower
It was obvious Henry cared about Colin—about his health. He knew how difficult Colin could be, but he also understood him better than most. His help would matter. I was sure of it.
“Everything’s going to work out, Isabelle. Don’t worry. Colin’s gonna pull through—and go right back to annoying everyone in this house.”
I smiled.
Deep down, I wanted to believe he was right…
COLIN ADAMS
No one really knows the pain I’m in.
Everyone in this house thinks I’m just “throwing a tantrum,” but they have no idea what’s actually going on inside my head.
Not being able to control my own body drives me crazy. Having limited command over my movements makes me feel useless—insignificant compared to everyone else.
People keep saying things like, “Why doesn’t he just start physical therapy?” or “How hard can it be to try walking again with all that help?” or “He’ll get there if he just tries!”
I’m sick of it.
I did try.In my own way—but I swear, I did.
Even though I refused to do the exercises that first day, I paid attention to every single thing the therapist said. Later, when no one was watching, I snuck a few dumbbells and some other equipment into my room.
I didn’t want to fail in front of anyone.
But I couldn’t do it. Not a single exercise he’d shown me.
I felt weak—like garbage. And you know what’s ironic?
If I could go back in time, I’d do it all over again.
I know that sounds twisted—complaining this much about my situation—but I’d never give up Isabelle or the kids. Not for anything.
Then my phone started buzzing, and I saw those things again.
Oh, right. That.
Messages of “support.”
Out of nowhere, people started calling me, sending messages full of sympathy and other nonsense. And I call it nonsense because most of those so-called “friends” haven’t said a single word to me in years—not even when I needed them most, after I lost my daughter.
And yeah… in the end, it’s my fault. Of course it is.
I’m the one who shut everyone out. I own that.
What I can’t stand is those same people showing up now, pretending to care, when they couldn’t be bothered back then.
I can count on one hand the people who truly cared about me—and I used to have a lot of friends.
I honestly don’t know how to deal with everything surrounding me anymore. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do.
All I want is a little light—something to help me understand whether I still have a purpose on this earth… if people even have one at all.
Now I’ve got two bodyguards. Mini bodyguards.
Isabelle put Joshua and Hanna in charge of keeping me company—and it immediately reminded me of our last conversation, when she’d said I’d have company during my physical therapy sessions.
Well… she wasn’t kidding.
