Chapter 3

3

Curtis's self-inflicted stab had been meticulously calculated―nothing more than a superficial scratch.

Yet, it completely shifted Lyra's heart back to him.

Because of her lingering love, no matter how clumsy Curtis's excuses were, Lyra always found ways to rationalize them in her mind.

On my birthday that year, I sat alone at the dining table with a custom cake, waiting from dusk until the dead of night.

I called her over and over, but there was no response.

We had agreed days in advance to celebrate my birthday together over dinner.

Terrified that something had happened to her, I grabbed my keys and sped toward her hospital.

Halfway there, my phone finally rang with an incoming call from her.

Hearing her choked-up voice, I panicked so hard I nearly swerved into the median. "What happened? Where are you? I'm coming right now!"

Her breathless voice came over the line, accompanied by a faint male sigh in the background. "Rowan, I have to cover a colleague's overnight shift for a few days. I'll just be staying at the on-call dorms."

"Do you need me to bring you fresh clothes?"

Lyra hastily declined. "No need! I'll head home as soon as this busy stretch is over."

Over the next few days, Lyra stopped picking up my calls entirely.

Hours later, she would only send back curt texts telling me not to worry and to take care of myself.

She was my wife; how could I not worry?

I worried she was skipping meals due to back-to-back surgeries.

I spent an entire morning slow-cooking her favorite chicken soup and preparing a gourmet lunchbox to surprise her.

When I pulled up to the clinic, I saw her gently supporting Curtis into an Uber.

I trailed behind their car until they stopped at the luxury condo I had bought for her―a place just ten minutes from her clinic.

I had purchased it so she could rest comfortably between grueling shifts. Now, it had become the private love nest where she harbored her ex.

Numb with disgust, I tossed the warm lunchbox straight into the nearest dumpster.