Chapter 2

2.

Vincent’s face darkened instantly.

Sloane had shown up at our door in the middle of the night twice.

The first time, she claimed she’d left her hospital ID in Vincent’s car. She came knocking with red-rimmed eyes, and in the end, Vincent drove her home.

Two weeks later, I found a lipstick on Vincent's desk in his study that wasn't mine. Fenty Beauty, a brand I never used.

Vincent said, "Sloane probably dropped it when she came by to get some files."

Then he casually put the lipstick into his own drawer.

I suppressed the strange feeling in my gut and didn't ask a thing.

Sure enough, Sloane rang our doorbell again in the middle of the night.

She smiled and held out her hand to Vincent. "Dr. Hayes, can I have my lipstick back?"

Vincent pulled it from his pocket and handed it to her, his tone flat. "Be more careful next time."

Sloane tilted her head at him, her voice sickeningly sweet. "I will, Dr. Hayes."

The way she acted coy with him was so practiced it looked like she’d rehearsed it a hundred times.

I froze on the spot.

That was the first time Vincent and I had a massive fight.

At the end of it, he closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "Evelyn, not everyone is like you, always overthinking things."

"Sloane isn't like you. She's brilliant, with a bright future ahead of her."

Tears were still clinging to my eyelashes.

I just stared at him, stunned.

And Vincent turned and went back to his study.

―I snapped back from the memory.

Vincent was staring at my face, as if waiting for even the slightest flicker of emotion.

There was none.

My expression remained completely unchanged.

As I turned to go upstairs, his voice followed me, laced with a cautious, probing tone.

"Evelyn, today is our fifth wedding anniversary."

"You remember, right?"

If he hadn't mentioned it, I would have completely forgotten.

Ever since Vincent started mentoring interns, he had the same excuse for every single anniversary―

Busy.

Last year, I had made a reservation at Boston's No. 9 Park two months in advance and called him, nervous and excited.

It wasn't Vincent who answered.

It was Sloane.

"Mrs. Hayes, Dr. Hayes is still in surgery. Maybe you could call back after he's finished?"

Hearing her voice was like having a bucket of ice water dumped over my head.

Vincent never let anyone touch his phone. Not even me. In our first year of marriage, I once grabbed his phone by mistake to check an email. He didn't say anything, but his face told me everything I needed to know.

I never touched it again after that.

But Sloane could answer his calls directly.

That time, Vincent and I had another huge fight. He slammed the door and left. The elaborate dinner and gift I had prepared sat on the table all night.

I turned towards the stairs.

"I forgot."