Chapter 3

3

I forced myself to get up and drove to a private clinic I usually visited.

As the doctor prepared to clean my wounds, Everett burst in.

He grabbed my anesthesiologist by the arm.

"Quick! Celine is in a lot of pain. Give her a local anesthetic right now!"

"But this lady here is―" the doctor started.

Everett finally noticed me. He frowned as if I were a nuisance.

"It's fine. Go with him," I said coldly.

The doctor hesitated but eventually followed him out of the room.

I turned to the remaining physician. "Just pick the glass out. No numbing."

The doctor looked stunned. "It's going to hurt a lot without it. Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Just start."

I grit my teeth through the entire process. I didn't make a single sound.

By the end, even the doctor was impressed. "You have an incredible pain tolerance."

I didn't respond.

If I hadn't learned to endure pain, I would have broken down years ago.

After my wounds were bandaged, I went back to the house.

The smell of slow-cooked soup wafted from the kitchen.

The maid looked at me with an awkward expression.

"Ma'am, Mr. Sterling told me to take this soup to Miss Celine. He wants me to stay there and look after her for a few days."

She noticed my bandaged arms and hesitated.

"Should I leave a bowl for you?"

I smiled, but it didn't reach my eyes. "No, thank you."

Even a maid knew how to show concern.

But the man I had shared a bed with for seven years didn't care if I lived or died.

My phone buzzed.

It was an official offer letter from the tech firm I had interviewed with online.

I didn't hesitate. I replied immediately, confirming my start date.

Then I opened a travel app and booked a flight for seven days from now.

The house was empty, which made leaving easier.

Despite my injuries, I managed to pack my bags.

I stood in the center of the room and looked around one last time.

I'd lived here for seven years. I felt a small sting of regret, but mostly, I felt relief.

I called him one last time. He picked up, sounding annoyed.

"Mona, you actually have the nerve to call?"

"Let me tell you, if Celine has any permanent marks from this, you're going to pay!"

I tried to speak, but realized there was nothing left to say.

He hung up before I could utter a word.

I slowly lowered my phone and let out a self-deprecating laugh.

I found the original marriage contract and signed the attached divorce papers. I left them on his desk in the study.

No note. No long goodbye.

I knew he would understand.

I dragged my suitcase out and checked into a quiet boutique hotel.

I spent the next seven days resting and healing.

He didn't send a single text. He didn't call once.

Seven days later, I sat in the airport lounge, waiting for my flight.

My phone rang. His name flashed on the screen.

I looked at it for a second and then turned the phone off.

His name vanished, just like our marriage.

I boarded the plane toward my new life and never looked back.

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