My Husband Bought Me Flowers To Celebrate My Promotion. A Homeless Woman Just Warned Me That Smelling Them Will Kill Me. Should I Trust My Husband Of Five Years Or A Stranger?

“Go home. Act normal. Don’t let on that you know. Tomorrow morning leave early, go to a friend’s house, your mom’s, anywhere. And go straight to the police. Understood?”

“And you?”

“I’ll be in touch. Here’s my number.” Cassie recited it. Eleanor saved it in her phone. “If anything goes wrong, call me. I’ll give a statement. I saw everything. I’m a witness.”

Eleanor nodded, clutching the bag with the bouquet. It was heavy as a stone, like a sentence.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Cassie shook her head. “You’ll save yourself. When it’s all over, then you can thank me.”

Eleanor walked back. The darkness was thicker, colder. She was walking with the proof that the husband she had lived with for 5 years wanted to kill her. She walked not knowing what tomorrow would bring.

She walked understanding that the life she knew had ended tonight at the supermarket, when a strange woman with a baby in her arms told her the truth.

The building appeared ahead. The windows of her apartment were lit. Michael was waiting. What was he thinking, she wondered, when she didn’t come back right away? Was he calling, worried?

Eleanor pulled out her phone. Three missed calls from Michael. Two texts: “Where are you?” and “Why aren’t you answering?”

She typed a reply: “Ran into my friend Carmen. We got to talking. On my way now.”

She went up the stairs. She hid the bag with the flowers in a corner behind the trash chute. She opened the door. Michael was in the hallway.

“Where have you been?” he asked, his voice tense.

“I told you. I ran into Carmen. She was telling me about her grandkids. I couldn’t interrupt her.”

Eleanor took off her jacket, trying to sound calm. Michael nodded, then went back to the kitchen. She took a glass of water. Her hands were shaking so much the glass almost slipped from her fingers.

She drank, feeling the cold water go down her throat, and thought only one thing: survive until morning. Just survive until morning.

The night stretched on infinitely. Eleanor lay in bed next to Michael, unable to sleep. His every breath, every movement grated on her frayed nerves. He slept peacefully, breathing evenly, sometimes turning onto his other side.

The normal sleep of a normal person. A person who just hours before had tried to kill his wife. Eleanor stared at the dark ceiling, replaying everything that had happened in her mind.

Cassie’s words. The bouquet. The paramedic’s certificate she had hidden it deep in her purse under documents and her makeup bag. The bag with the flowers was hidden. Michael must not find them. Not tonight, not before she got to the police.

The clock showed 4:00 a.m. It was still pitch black outside. Eleanor carefully sat up, looked at Michael. He was asleep. She quietly got out of bed, put on her robe, and left the bedroom.

In the kitchen, she poured herself some water and sat at the table. Her whole body was like a taut string. Her phone was on the table. She picked it up, opened her messages with Cassie.

“Can’t sleep,” she wrote.

A reply came within a minute. “Me neither. How are you?”

“I’m scared. I don’t know what to do.”

“Leave early in the morning while he’s sleeping and go straight to the police. Don’t delay.”

“What if he wakes up? Asks where I’m going?”

“Lie. Say you’re going to the doctor for a checkup after yesterday’s attack. It’s logical.”

Eleanor nodded to herself. Yes, that could work. Michael knew she sometimes went to the pulmonologist for a checkup after an attack.

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Hang in there. You’ll get through this.”

Eleanor put the phone down, finished her water. She needed to get at least a little sleep, gather her strength. Tomorrow would be a hard day. She went back to the bedroom. She lay down carefully, trying not to wake Michael. She closed her eyes.

Sleep wouldn’t come. Thoughts spun in her head, each more terrible than the last. What if the police didn’t believe her? What if they said there wasn’t enough evidence? What if Michael found out she went to the police and…

Oh, don’t think about that. Just survive until morning. Survive and get out.

Eleanor opened her eyes at 7:00 a.m. It turned out she had finally fallen asleep. Michael stretched beside her, yawning.

“It’s morning already,” he mumbled sleepily.

“Yes.” Eleanor sat on the edge of the bed. “I need to go to the doctor.”

“After what happened yesterday?” Michael propped himself up on his elbow. He looked at her. “What doctor?”

“The pulmonologist at the clinic. After the attack I need to get checked out.” She tried to speak casually, as if this were a routine matter.

“Do you want me to drive you?”

Her heart sank. That was the last thing she wanted.

“No, no need,” Eleanor said quickly. “You have to get to work. I don’t want to make you late. I’ll be faster on the L train anyway.”

Michael looked at her for a long time. Too long. Eleanor felt his heavy assessing gaze.