AN: There are these things the economics department likes to make us write. They're time consuming, nerve wrecking and generally known as tests. Now that that's over, back to the dead best friend. This is going to be a little weird. I tried different points of view in this chapter and this is the only one that would work. Weird part: it's mostly a dead guy's point of view.

BPOV

"That makes zero sense," I told him, "Why would a guy who could barely tolerate me die so I could live?"

"He did it for me." Charles looked at me earnestly.

My husband is a good man. He is a lying, manipulative, arrogant, good man. This spoils him for most people but makes him just right for me. The thing I love about Charles' lying is that it's convincing. I learned time long ago that there is no comfort in the truth. Aaron's story is one I have to know though. My problem here is that even though Charles lies to me more than he does to anyone else in the world I still need him to confirm the truth before I can believe it. He's the only person I can really trust. It sounds absolutely, bloody ludicrous but my logic always does.

"I want to see the note." I told him.

Aaron's POV

I woke up with a fast pounding heart but remained still. That was the most terrifying dream I have ever had. Fine, I get the point, I'll be nicer to her.

I went to Charles' house for breakfast. I let myself in. I may or may not have stolen the housekeeper's spare key. "Chuckie." I greeted him.

"You know I detest that name." he answered. Déjà vu.

"And I detest that suit." It was just too weird to see him in it.

"What are you talking about? You love this suit." He said sitting down.

"That was before you had a heart attack wearing it." I said under my breath. Isabella came into the room wearing jeans, sneakers and a t-shirt that was four sizes too big for her. At least she wasn't wearing the t-shirt that I'd seen her brains on but I get it, I'll be nice to my best friend's sociopath wife."Good morning Isabella." I said with an almost genuine smile.

"How the hell do you know what kind of a damn morning it is?" she asked pouring coffee. What killed me about Isabella was the way she said things. If you put her on mute you'd think she was saying something nice.

"Oh for the love of God." I said to the ceiling. Charles typically stayed out of these exchanges.

"I don't believe in him." She responded giving Charles a kiss goodbye. I doubt she was even 90 pounds but she refused to eat breakfast and I rarely saw her at any table where food was served. Charles had explained the reason for this and it made it hard to comment on the topic of Isabella and food.

"Satan's mistress." I couldn't help mumbling.

"Don't believe in him either." She replied walking out of the room. The woman could hear needles fall in a crowded room.

I felt fingers pressing painfully into the back of my hand. "Don't." Charles said with a grimace.

I just put my hands up in surrender. Charles would defend Isabella no matter how far she was in the wrong. When a man loves a woman this much it's dangerous. This thought made me hang my head and shake it. "I'm trying to get her to talk to someone." He told me.

"The woman doesn't need a doctor. She needs an exorcist." I poured juice to avoid seeing how he took that.

"She isn't that bad." The poor, blind man told me.

"Sure. That's why everyone hates her." Another fact he was in denial about.

"Hate is a strong word." He said before lifting his toast to his mouth and taking a bite. And this is the man who made a woman learn the whole table setting before he introduced her to his father. If I had to say one good thing about Isabella I'd say she made Charles a human being.

"The good Samaritan wouldn't spit on fire to put her out." And he knew it just as well as I did.

"People don't understand her." I could tell he honestly believed this. "If you just took the time and tried to understand her I think you two could get along." He has to be joking. "I take the time to listen. Can you guess what I've noticed?" he asked with a serious face. Oh great.

"Is there any way I can eat my breakfast and not hear you justify her… behaviour?" I asked.

"You can stop eating you breakfast with me. And I'm not justifying, I'm explaining." I failed to see the gulf he obviously saw between the two.

"Usually her remarks are humorous. The only time they're ever tainted with malice is when you decide to quote the bible." He said this as if I should have noticed. No man ever studied his wife the way Charles studies Isabella, of course most wives are a little more forthcoming than her.

"What do you want me to do? Give up my religion for your wife?" I had done a wide spectrum of things for Charles because his wife required them but a line had to be drawn somewhere.

I didn't realise I was on my feet until he got to his. "Just don't quote the bible at her. Is that to for me to ask of my brother?" he pleaded. Charles was like a brother to me but he was getting dangerously close to playing that card too much.

"Charles you're my brother. I would give my life for you but your wife-"

"She's my life!" he shouted, "Can you honestly tell me you don't see that?" he asked in a more subdued tone.

I saw it. I saw it before he saw it but it was something I never wanted either of us to ever admit. That just made it so much more real and anyone could see Isabella was self-destructing, even Charles. What he refused to see was that he couldn't stop it.

"We're going to be late." I said. There was nothing to say. He may as well have told me he had a terminal disease. I didn't think he'd take it well if I said I was sorry. We left the uneaten meal and drove in separate cars.

The whole day I was haunted by the dream. It was like a prophecy of what Charles told me. God was trying to give a heads up. I just missed what it was about. I would have disregarded it if my driver hadn't said, "How can anyone stand to be drunk before sundown? If you ask me the latest Mrs Bass is below the bar, pun intended."

I let him mouth of too much, "I didn't ask you. Take me to the bar." I instructed.

Yesterday I dreamed of how my brother's wife would die and how he would die if she did. Charles was doomed because he wouldn't give up on Isabella and I was doomed because I wouldn't give up on him.

I believed in destiny. Seeing as I was about to fuck with it I thought I should have insurance. I wrote a note. When the car stopped I got out and handed it to my driver. "If I'm not back in an hour, go home and give this to Charles in the morning." I slipped him the post-it and went into the bar. I called 911 as I made my way to the back and reported an accident I was 97% sure would happen. I gave myself 3%, which was generous, seeing as God had already made up his mind about this.

She already had the car running when I got to her. I jumped in. By the time she noticed me she had already laid down 10 yards of rubber. Why people made cars that went from zero to a hundred in 4.2 seconds is beyond me.

"Aaron." She said with all the shock she could manage in her state.

"Charles loves you, Isabella. If you won't pick up the broken pieces for yourself, do it for him." I hoped I was getting through to her.

"Charles, he loves me more than I deserve." She said. A tear slid down her eye and she took her foot off the accelerator. I closed my eyes in relief.

"I don't hate you." I told her. When she didn't respond I opened my eyes to see a passed out Isabella and a tree coming fast. If I knew this road well then hitting that tree was our only chance at not plummeting to our death. My last memory of that day was the pinch in my palm when my hand got caught fastening her seatbelt before the world as I knew it disappeared into oblivion.

BPOV

Aaron gave his life for mine when I didn't give a damn about myself. I wasn't going to waste my time on guilt. The fact that Charles hid this from me tells me I've wasted enough time on it. I looked at Aaron's last words for the time that would be the first of many.

Charles, My brother

I know you love your wife

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