Nate sat at the kitchen table, his phone face-down on the surface, Grayson's words still echoing in his head.

He scrubbed both hands over his face, exhaustion pulling at him like a physical weight. Four weeks of this. Four weeks of watching his wife disappear, of second-guessing every decision, of carrying guilt so heavy it made breathing difficult.

The psychiatrist appointment was still six days away. Six more days of this half-life, of watching Prue go through the motions without actually ...