Chapter 2

2

After that day, I didn't hear from Cole again.

But I was already used to that.

I saw him again three days later.

I was heading back to my room after asking the doctor about my progress.

I was looking down at my medical charts, not paying attention.

I slammed right into Cole in the hospital corridor.

His assistant saw me bump into him and shoved me away, shouting.

"Watch where you're going!"

Cole must have been exhausted.

He didn't look up, just waved his hand at the assistant.

"Let it go. She's a patient."

"I'm sorry, it was my fault."

Cole was already a few steps away.

When he heard my voice, he stopped in his tracks.

He turned around and grabbed my hand.

"Elena, what are you doing in the hospital? And why didn't you acknowledge me when you saw me? Are you still mad at me?"

After all, we had shared a bed for eight years.

Even though my voice was hoarse from the pain, he recognized me instantly.

His assistant heard him say my name and hurriedly came over to apologize repeatedly.

A bitter taste filled my mouth.

I bit my lip to hold back tears and tried to pull my hand away.

But he held on tighter.

Cole dragged me in front of him, his tired eyes showing a hint of impatience.

"Elena, I'm really busy every day. I know our anniversary is important, but just tell me what you want. How am I supposed to guess? And do you have to target every female secretary I hire? Aren't you tired of this?"

The force of his tugging caused my old wounds to flare up with stabbing pain.

I couldn't help it. I clutched my ribs and crouched on the floor.

Cole looked nervous when he saw my reaction.

This old injury was his fault, after all.

Eight years ago, we had just graduated.

Cole came from a wealthy family, but he wanted to make a name for himself.

So, a year after graduation, he started his own company.

Only we knew the struggles of that startup.

Around the end of the year, we were constantly on the road, chasing down payments.

On New Year's Eve, Cole got into an argument with a client while demanding payment.

Neither of us expected the client to pull out a sharp knife from behind his back.

When the blade came at him, I pushed Cole out of the way.

Eighteen stabs.

Every single one of them went into my body.

Maybe the guy didn't actually want to kill me.

Or maybe heaven took pity on my devotion.

After a month in a coma, I woke up.

Those eighteen stabs left my lower abdomen covered in scars.

Yet, these used to be the places Cole loved to kiss the most.

After that incident, Cole swore he would marry me and cherish me for the rest of his life.

Looking at him now, it felt like a sick joke.

"Elena, did your old wound flare up? Look at you. I told you not to get so worked up. That girl picked out those gifts for you with good intentions. She isn't like you―a wealthy wife―how would she know about your refined tastes?"

"Also, you know the company is at a critical stage. How could I have time for..."

Cole's words dragged me back to reality.

Looking at this man, surrounded by people wherever he went, the boy in my memories who claimed to love me was fading away.

The Cole who used to be sparing with his words for me now rambled on and on to explain himself for a little girl.

I forced myself to stand up despite the pain and cut him off.

"It's all my fault. I won't take up any more of your time, Mr. Miller. Just sign the divorce papers when you have a chance."

"Elena! Are you ever going to let this go?"

I ignored him and fled the scene in a disheveled state.

The moment I turned away, the tears I'd been holding back streamed down my face.

It seemed that not only had our love rotted away, but the man in front of me had decayed, too.

A few steps away, I heard a girlish voice cooing behind me.

"Mr. Miller, was that Mrs. Miller who just walked by? Is she still mad at us? I went and picked out new gifts. You should go chase after her and give them to her."

"Ignore her. She's just spoiled. Look at you, you're sweating. There's no need to do that. Which room is the client in that we need to visit? ..."

I fought the urge to vomit and ran back to my room.

I buried my head in the pillows and sobbed out loud.

As I cried, I told myself: this is the last time.

From now on, I will never cry for this man again.

If something is broken beyond repair, just throw it away.