“You’re finally awake,” the nurse said, visibly relieved as she changed the gauze on my forehead. “You scared us. Two wine bottles to the head–over thirty stitches. Whoever did this really had it out for you.”
I instinctively reached for my head, fingertips grazing the thick layers of bandages.
My voice came out dry. “Who brought me here?”
“Oh, your best friend,” the nurse replied, adjusting my drip. “She stayed with you through the night but had to rush off for an emergency at work. Don’t worry–she even hired a private nurse to look after you.”
My chest tightened.
So… it wasn’t Troy who brought me here.
My hand reached for my phone on the tray beside me.
The screen lit up. A new notification from social media flashed across the screen.
Bianca Green: He still spoils me so easily.
I tapped the video with trembling fingers.
In it, Bianca was pouting, her index finger held out like a wounded bird. “Look,” she said, “I scratched my finger when I broke the bottle.”
Then the camera turned.
Troy was kneeling in front of her, his long fingers gently placing a bandage over her tiny wound. He looked up at her with soft eyes, then leaned down and kissed her fingertip.
“There. All better now.”
I stared at the screen, numb. It felt like someone had cracked my skull open again and poured acid directly into the wound.
I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I just inhaled… and dialed.
“Hello,” I said when the operator picked up, my voice hollow. “I want to report an assault.” That night, the door to my hospital room opened. Troy walked in, dressed in black, a storm brewing behind his perfectly calm expression.
“You called the police?” he asked coolly. “Filed charges against Bianca for assault?”
“Yes,” I said, lifting my eyes to meet his. “Intentional bodily harm. That’s enough to open a
case.”
His jaw clenched, voice low “She lost control. It was wrong but I’ve already dealt with it. It’s over.”
“Dealt with it?” I laughed, the sound catching in my throat. “How, exactly?”
7-
“I told her she wasn’t allowed to leave the house today,” he said, like it was the most logical thing in the world.
I stared at him in disbelief. “I had over thirty stitches in my head, and your idea of a
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consequence was grounding her for a day?”
His silence was answer enough.
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“You’re not punishing her,” I said. “You’re protecting her. You’re scared I’ll press charges, so you’re pretending like you’re being firm when all you’re doing is shielding her.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“I withdrew the report,” I cut him off. “There’s no point. You’ve already blocked the case. There’s no police station in this city that will touch her.”
His expression didn’t shift.
I gripped the edge of the bedsheet so hard my nails pressed into my palms.
I wanted to scream, to claw at his perfect, cold face and ask him why.
But all I could say was one thing.
“Troy… what was I to you these last six years?”
He blinked.
“Since you never cared about me,” I asked, my voice shaking, “why did you marry me?” His brows furrowed. “Who said I don’t care?”
“You did. Every time you looked through me. Every time you left me alone. Every night you slept in a different room.” My voice cracked. “You cared enough to marry me but not enough to show up when I almost died?”
He didn’t respond right away. Then he took a breath.
“This isn’t the time to argue,” he said instead. “You’re still recovering. I’ll stay at the hospital. Make sure you’re taken care of. Once you’re better… we can talk about compensation. Just stop creating more chaos.”
He said it like he was giving me a favor. Like I should be grateful.
I stared at him, almost in awe.
This man… the one I once begged to love me. The one I swore I’d melt. The one I gave my youth, my pride, my body, and my heart to.
-Now thought his presence was a blessing.
And I realized something right then.
He never thought I’d leave. He was so sure I’d always love him… that I’d never have the strength to walk away.
But he was wrong. This time, I wasn’t going to beg. This time, I was done.
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Chapter 4