The Accident and an Accusation

Jerica got home, unsurprised to find the house as empty as it had been most nights lately. As expected. The quiet was suffocating, a stark contrast to the pulsing beat of the nightclub she'd just left behind.

With a sigh, she twisted the faucet to fill the bathtub, the sound of rushing water echoing in the silence. She wandered into the kitchen while she waited, opening the refrigerator. Inside, it was neatly stocked with labeled dinners. Her husband's handiwork—always preparing meals for her in case he came home late.

He'd been coming home late a lot lately.

Jerica had checked with his office. He always left with everyone else, save for a few rare nights when he stayed an extra hour or two. So, where was he going when he said he was working late? What was his secret?

She didn't want to doubt him. She hated the suspicion that gnawed at her, but it was there, creeping in every time she thought about it. It could be something harmless, a secret hobby, part of his job, maybe research.

But… call it a wife's instinct. Something didn't feel right.

She slammed the fridge door shut, her appetite vanishing. The brownnosing paralegal—what was his name again?—had been her main suspect. That weasel probably thought he could keep her from knowing the truth. She had sources in the assistant district attorney's office, but lately, they'd gone silent.

Had he silenced them? The thought made her blood boil.

Jerica rubbed her temples, feeling the weight of her frustration mounting. She didn't have the energy to deal with this. Not tonight.

Her eyes drifted to the laundry basket in the bathroom as she passed by—it was overflowing. She was supposed to do laundry today. Supposed to. But like most things these days, she didn't care enough to finish it.

Instead, she put on her headphones, letting her favorite playlist drown out the buzzing in her head. The music was comforting, pulling her away from reality, as she stepped into the warm bath. The heat enveloped her, softening the edges of her thoughts.

Before she knew it, her eyes fluttered shut, the tension in her body melting away as sleep crept in.

The water sloshed softly around her, but Jerica didn't notice. All she felt was the pull of exhaustion, pulling her deeper into unconsciousness, the ache in her chest momentarily forgotten.

Darkness swallowed Jerica whole as she drifted off, the soft hum of her favorite music guiding her into a peaceful oblivion. The warm bathwater cradled her, loosening the tension she had been carrying for days.

But soon, the melody in her ears began to distort, warping like waves crashing against rocks. A strange burning sensation stirred in her chest, while at the same time, something unnervingly serene filled her soul. It was as though she had found a quiet place in her mind—one she didn't want to leave.

Then, without warning, her ears rang with an unbearable pitch. Pressure built in her chest, crushing her ribs, forcing the air from her lungs. She tried to open her eyes, to focus, but everything was blurry. Her head spun.

Distantly, like a ghost through a fog, she heard her husband's voice shouting her name, calling her back. She strained to open her eyes but was met with only darkness and a faint, flickering light.

Then the light grew brighter and the shouting louder.

"Jerica! Jerica, wake up!" Jared's voice rang louder, sharper, and full of panic.

Suddenly, the world crashed back into focus. She blinked once, twice, before gasping, coughing up water that burned her throat. Her body jerked upright, chest heaving for air. She was no longer in the bathtub—she was sprawled on the bathroom floor, soaked and shivering. Jared was kneeling over her, his face twisted with fear, hands still pressing rhythmically on her chest.

"Jerica!" His voice broke as her eyes fluttered open, and he immediately cupped her face, patting her cheek gently but frantically. "Oh, thank God."

Jerica blinked in confusion, her vision still blurry, her body weak. Her chest burned, and each breath was a shallow, painful rasp. She wrapped her arms around herself instinctively, realizing with a start that she was naked. The cold tile under her skin was nothing compared to the icy shock of reality settling in.

She had fallen asleep in the tub. And nearly drowned.

Coughing, her body jerked as she tried to sit up. Jared quickly moved, wrapping her robe around her trembling form, securing it tightly with shaking hands. His face was pale, his hair disheveled, and the relief in his eyes only lasted for a split second before something darker replaced it—anger.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Jared's voice boomed, startling her. "Seriously? What the f*ck, Jerica?" His words came out harsh, almost venomous, as he pulled her up to sit against the wall.

Jerica's mind was still foggy, but the sharpness in his tone cut through. She was stunned. Jared never cursed at her. Never raised his voice like this. And now, here she was, still dripping wet, gasping for air, and instead of relief or comfort, he was yelling at her?

"I... I didn't…" she stammered, her voice hoarse and weak. Her head pounded, the events of the night starting to blur together—dancing, the drinks, the warmth of the bath—and then nothing.

She rubbed her temple, trying to make sense of it all. Yes, she had been tipsy, and yes, she had been stupid to get into the tub. But why was he acting like this? Why was he so mad?

"I'm fine… It's no big deal…"

"No big deal…" Jared ran a hand through his hair, pacing now, his anger radiating off him seemingly multiplied. "Do you have any idea how…" he clenched his jaws and retracted his hands that reached for her. "I thought you were dead, Jerica! Dead!" His voice cracked, and she could see his hands shaking as he gripped the edge of the sink, leaning against it as though he needed the support.

She swallowed hard, trying to steady her own trembling. "I didn't mean to—"

"Didn't mean to? You got drunk, fell asleep in the tub, and almost drowned!" His eyes were wide, incredulous. "I know summer's hard on you, but… I can't believe you'd be so careless. What the hell is going on with you?"

Jerica's heart twisted at his words. Careless. That single word cut deeper than it should have, striking a chord she hadn't expected. The summer always brought back memories—bittersweet and raw. It was the season when her world had been torn apart. The summer after she finished high school, her parents and her brother died in a car accident, leaving her life changed forever.

She swallowed hard. "Careless?" The accusation stung.