I gaze at my husband's once-handsome face, so still and pale in the hospital bed. The doctors say I should keep talking. He might be able to hear me even after the terrible accident that left him fighting for his life. But all I have to whisper to my husband is this: I know what you did. Every day I wave my husband Damon off with a kiss and a smile, drive our precious children to school, and make sure our house is pristine before preparing a delicious meal. I pretend I'm not filled with fury that he once nearly destroyed our perfect life. It's important to carry on as normal. That is, until the accident. My husband was hit by a car. It was pouring rain. Nobody saw what happened. But the police are asking questions... Do they know about the terrible argument we had that day? Do they know about the text message I sent, telling someone to Delete everything?