Chapter 2

2 I took the rest of the day off and texted David to come home immediately. He replied instantly: "Be right there."

His office was close by, and he arrived within twenty minutes. He looked impeccable in his tailored suit, his handsome features even more striking.

"What is it, Evelyn? Something urgent?" He pulled me into a hug, his usual tenderness wrapping around me. He'd been this tender for six years. My friends always remarked how the cold, decisive CEO was only this gentle with me. Now I realized it was all an act.

"David, I want a divorce." The words were out before I registered the mistake. David and I weren't legally married. We'd had a ceremony, but never filed the paperwork. We'd simply lived together as husband and wife for six years. Six years felt like a lifetime. So long, in fact, that I'd forgotten we weren't legally married. I'd thought we were old marrieds. Now, it dawned on me: I was the other woman.

"What are you talking about?" He knelt before me, his dark eyes searching mine. "What happened? Tell me."

My throat tightened. "Your wife came to see me for a checkup today. She showed me pictures of you two together. She said you've been married for seven years."

His pupils constricted, and his body visibly trembled. I'd never seen him so shaken. He was always so composed. This confirmed it. He and Amelia had been married for seven years.

I first met David at the hospital. He was brought in after a suicide attempt, and I was the doctor who saved his life. Afterwards, I learned he suffered from depression. As his physician, I took a special interest in his case, visiting him often.

One day, I asked him, "Why did you try to end your life? You're handsome, wealthy. What could you possibly be worried about?" My colleagues had told me he was the son of the CEO of Wilson Enterprises, born with a silver spoon in his mouth.

He turned to me, silent. I tried again: "Was it because of a relationship?"

This time he spoke. "No."

I smiled. "David, I don't know your story, and I'm not going to give you a pep talk. All I know is that you're my patient, and I'm responsible for you. You can't die."

I dedicated myself to his care, treating him like a normal person. We watched TV shows together, I brought him homemade empanadas. He wrinkled his nose, complaining they'd make his breath stink, but after watching me enjoy one, he'd sneak a few and devour them with surprising gusto.

In our spare time, I'd rope him into playing mobile games. He acted indifferent at first, but after one game, he was hooked. He'd text me constantly: "Dr. Sanders, game on?" or "Dr. Sanders, wanna play?" Classic case of playing hard to get.