I wasn’t sure if Lucas would tell him anything. After all, he was only Ryan’s assistant.

Three days later, the doctor released me from the hospital with a pile of prescriptions and instructions to come in for regular check-ups. The painkillers gave me just enough strength to make it home by taxi, though my body felt fragile and hollow.

I was carrying a large stack of medication and before I even entered the door, I heard the sounds of playful banter coming from the villa.

A woman’s delicate, coquettish voice floated out. “Ryan, I don’t want to eat this.”

A man’s gentle reply followed. “Good girl, you just got out of the hospital. This is what I've made with my own hands—just eat a little, okay?”

Then came the clatter of chopsticks hitting the floor.

I quickly stepped over, grabbed the chopsticks from Ryan’s hand and hurled them to the ground with all the strength I could muster. My chest heaved as I fought to stay upright.

“Emma… why did you come back?” Chloe’s wide eyes blinked at me in surprise.

Ryan’s expression turned cold in an instant.

“This is my wife and your sister’s house. Why wouldn’t she come back?” he said icily. Then, he came to my side without hesitation and gently guided me to sit down.

I ignored him, raising my hand to point toward the door. “Get out,” I said, my voice hoarse but firm.

Perhaps it was my face's paleness or my voice's weariness, but Ryan waved his hand, signaling her to leave.

“Lucas, take Chloe home,” he ordered calmly.

Only then did I notice Lucas standing quietly in the corner, blending into the background. It seemed he hadn’t told Ryan anything about me—about the hospital or the cancer.

When they were gone, I struggled to pick up the medicine scattered on the floor. I could feel Ryan’s gaze locked on me.

He stepped closer, concern lacing his voice. “What is that?”

I clutched the medicine tightly and turned away from him. “It’s nothing. I had a bit of a cold, so I went to get some medicine.”

He gave a slight nod, not questioning me further—not asking where I had been these past few days or whether I had eaten.

A wave of exhaustion washed over me, pulling me down like an anchor. I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Let’s get a divorce,” I whispered.

His head snapped up, disbelief written all over his face. “What did you say?”

I didn’t even look at him, my voice steady and emotionless. “I said, let’s get a divorce.”

He looked at me as if I had told him a bad joke. “Stop this nonsense, Emma.”

Ignoring my words, he pulled me toward the dining table and ladled a bowl of soup, carefully setting it in front of me. “You have a cold. Your body is weak and you’ve lost so much weight. Eat something.”

I glanced at the bowl, feeling nothing but nausea. Bitterness bubbled up inside me and I couldn’t stop the sarcasm from spilling out.

“This was for Chloe, wasn’t it? I doubt I am even worthy of eating it.”

His face, which was just wearing a smile, darkened, a little impatient. “Are you jealous?”

His voice grew stern. “Nothing is going on between me and Chloe. I only take care of her like a little sister. She is still young—you know that. Can’t you understand?”

I scoffed silently. Ryan had a real sister who had been living independently overseas for seven years. She was also still young. And yet, he never treated her like he doted on Chloe.

There were so many things I wanted to say and so many ways I wanted to fight back. But I was too tired. I didn't want to tangle with him any further. I picked up the medicine bag and headed upstairs without another word.

As I reached my room, a loud crash echoed from a place not far from the door—the sound of a car accident. Seconds later, Ryan’s phone rang, sharp and urgent.

“What? A car accident?” His voice tensed. “Is Chloe okay? I’m on my way.”

The front door slammed shut, the heavy thud ringing out like the final blow to my heart.

I sank to the floor, pressing my back against the wall. My knees came up to my chest and I buried my face in them as the familiar feeling of vomiting returned.

Suddenly, a memory surfaced—a moment from three years ago. It suddenly occurred to me when I had woken up one morning feeling queasy, stumbling toward the bathroom to wash up. Still groggy from sleep, Ryan rushed over to me, his eyes bright with excitement.

“Are you pregnant?” he asked eagerly, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the door. “Let’s go to the hospital!”

But the doctor’s diagnosis was simple: I wasn’t pregnant. I was just unwell.

I would never forget the way Ryan’s joy evaporated, replaced by a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. At that moment, I should have realized something: I was never the one who mattered most to him.

It wasn’t my health or well-being he cared about. It was the child I didn’t have.

I must have fallen asleep at some point and I don't know how long it was before I woke up again from the pain. The room was already dim and I swayed on my feet as I tried to stand, barely catching the door handle to steady myself.

The crumpled bag of medicine was still clutched in my hand.

I pushed open the door, expecting to see Ryan back home. I was about to call out and ask him for some water—I didn’t even have the strength to get it myself.

But it wasn’t Ryan standing there. It was Lucas.

This was the second time in just a few days that he’d seen me in this pathetic state. Embarrassed but with no other option, I had to open my mouth and ask him for help.

“Can you get me a glass of water?”

He said nothing, only nodded and returned shortly with a glass. I swallowed the pills with the warm water, waiting a few moments for the pain to ease.

“You’re still working?” I asked, my voice brittle. “Did Ryan tell you to come back?”

Lucas hesitated for a second, then gave a slight nod. But the confirmation didn’t stir anything in me. I was too drained to care.

I pulled out my phone, only to find one lone message from Chloe.

It was a photo she had secretly taken. (Ryan blowing on a bowl of noodles for her, a soft smile on his face)

He was always so distant and cold with me, but in that photo, he looked gentle—patient in a way I had rarely seen. Letting his assistant come back to take care of his wife, he went to personally take care of his ex-girlfriend.

I let out a bitter laugh, shutting off my phone without replying. Turning to Lucas, I said flatly, “I’m fine now. You can go.”

He raised a brow. “Are you sure?”

His diligence puzzled me. Even though Ryan had sent him, there was no need to be so dutiful. It felt like he was going above and beyond.

“Thank you,” I added quietly. “You’ve helped me three times now.”

He chuckled. “Three? I only count two.”

“You kept what happened in the hospital from Ryan.”

He suddenly smiled, “Just because he’s my boss doesn’t mean I’ll betray someone’s privacy.”

That was his way of saying I didn’t owe him anything.

“I don’t think Ryan will come back tonight,” Lucas said gently. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

I gave a small nod of acknowledgment, ‘hmm,’ before retreating into my room.

The next morning, Lucas was still waiting downstairs. When I insisted he go home and rest, he offhandedly said, “Mr. Caldwell said you should have dinner at his parent's house today.”

***

This home was Ryan's parents' home. Lucas sent me to the door.

My stomach churned at the thought. Ryan’s parents didn’t exactly welcome me. For the past five years, they’d grown increasingly impatient over my inability to conceive, their disappointment becoming more obvious with every family gathering.

I stood at the door, doing a lot of mental construction.

Ryan’s parents had never approved of me. From the beginning, they wanted Chloe to marry their son. After all, Chloe and Ryan had grown up together like childhood sweethearts. But when Chloe went abroad right after high school and stayed there for seven years, Ryan hadn’t waited for her—he’d married me instead.

At the time, I thought I would win and find happiness. But now, with Chloe back in the picture, I realize how naive I had been. Perhaps I had always just been her replacement.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open.

The cheerful conversation inside stopped abruptly, leaving the air heavy with awkwardness.

Ryan’s younger sister, Lily Caldwell, was the first to react. Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Well, well. The busy woman finally shows up.”

Sitting beside her, Chloe gave her a light nudge, feigning concern. “Lily, don’t say that.”

Ryan’s gaze softened when it landed on Chloe, but his brows furrowed at his sister’s words. “Lily, enough!”

Lily rolled her eyes dramatically, grabbing Chloe by the arm as they headed to her room.

They had been inseparable since childhood and Lily had always seen Chloe as her rightful sister-in-law. She’d never liked me and made no effort to hide it.

I acted as if nothing had happened, stepping inside without greeting anyone. Ryan’s parents were seated in the living room and the moment his mother saw me, her expression darkened.

His mother was unhappy and with a cold brow, she wanted to scold me.

I could already see the reprimand forming on her lips, but Ryan intervened, guiding me gently to sit down. He glanced at my pale face and tried to smooth things over.

“Mom, Emma hasn’t been feeling well lately.”

His mother let out a dismissive huff. “No wonder she can’t have children—sick all the time, just a burden.”

The words were sharp, meant to cut deep. I met her gaze steadily and said, “That’s why I’ve decided to divorce Ryan.”

The room fell silent.

Upon hearing this, the room fell into stunned silence. Ryan’s parents exchanged glances, their expressions lighting up with unexpected joy.

“Really?” his mother asked eagerly as if she could hardly believe her good fortune.

Ryan, however, stared at me in disbelief. “Emma, are you serious? It’s one thing to mess around with me, but why bring this nonsense to my parents?”

He turned his head, explaining to his parents and forcing a laugh. “Don’t listen to her, Mom, Dad. She’s just throwing a tantrum.”

Before they could respond, he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward his room, slamming the door behind us.

“Alright, Emma. What exactly do you want from me?” His frustration radiated off him.

The burning pain in my stomach flared again, sharp and unforgiving. I clutched my abdomen.

“I didn’t have breakfast. My stomach hurts. Can you make me a bowl of noodles?”

His expression hardened. “Cut it out, Emma. Don’t play these little tricks. You’ll survive missing one meal. This isn’t the time for noodles. Why are you really insisting on this divorce?”

I gave him a bitter smile, feeling the last bits of warmth drain from me. “That’s exactly why I want a divorce.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow, a mocking laugh slipping from his lips. “All because of a bowl of noodles? Are you kidding me?”

Well, it’s all because of a bowl of noodles.

He was about to say something else when he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Ryan! Come quick—Chloe’s stomach is acting up!”

His face immediately shifted to panic and without another word to me, he rushed out of the room, leaving me behind once again.

I had no idea where he took Chloe. But honestly, I no longer cared.

I calmly pulled out my phone and dialled a number. With the indifference of Ryan’s family weighing heavy in the air, I quietly made my way to the front door, clutching my aching stomach.

Lucas arrived to pick me up, just like I knew he would. He handed me a bag as I slid into the passenger seat.

“You left in a hurry this morning. I brought you some breakfast,” he said softly.

“You must don’t want to make yourself sicker.”

I took the food with a faint smile and thanked him again.

As I sipped the warm soy milk, the warmth spread through me, easing some of the pain in my stomach. Lucas scrolled through his phone as I ate.

On his screen, I caught a glimpse of Chloe’s social media post—a photo of a kitten resting under a hand with long, slender fingers.

The caption read: [Chloe Caldwell finally met his daddy—he’s so happy!”]

That hand, unmistakably Ryan’s, wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Instead, it wore the same bracelet Chloe had given him years ago. When I asked before, he said that Chloe personally went to the temple and begged for him and that it had been many years and had never been taken down.

I had begged him for years to get a cat, but he’d always refused, saying they were dirty. Now I knew—it was never about hygiene. It was a promise between him and Chloe, one he had no intention of sharing with anyone else.

Lucas noticed me watching and turned off his phone. “Sorry.”

I shook my head. There was nothing to apologize for.

He started the car and drove silently until we arrived at a familiar building—one I didn’t expect. It was the best cancer hospital in the city.

When the doctor diagnosed me with early-stage stomach cancer, I hadn’t told anyone. But Lucas had already known about it as well. In the early stages of stomach cancer, there was hope that it could be cured if it was treated aggressively.

“Come on,” he said, parking the car. “I made an appointment with a specialist. Let’s get you checked out.”

I stared at him, feeling a strange mix of surprise and gratitude, realizing he didn’t seem as simple as he looked. He noticed my expression and grinned. “What’s with the look? Don’t you want to cure yourself?”

With no more excuses, I let him guide me inside. Step by step, I followed his lead through the check-ups. It was only when we sat down with the consulting doctor that reality sank in. The doctor explained that my cancer was treatable, but I should need surgery to remove part of my stomach. The sooner, the better.

Hearing this, it felt like a heavy weight had been lifted from my chest. For the first time in days, I could breathe freely.

Lucas noticed my relief and gave me a small, satisfied smile. “Now you can feel relieved, right? Are you going to tell Ryan?”

I hesitated. “I’ll let things unfold naturally. It doesn’t matter anymore if I tell him or not.”

“Still…” I looked at him, my voice soft with genuine gratitude. “Thank you. Really.”

He smirked. “If you’re really grateful, maybe you could cook me something when you get better?”

I blinked, caught off guard by his request, then smiled. “Of course. After I recover.”

He insisted on driving me home. On the way, he offered to cook me dinner first, worried I wouldn’t eat properly.

When we reached the house, he checked the fridge. The food I’d kept there was all gone, likely used up by Ryan during his last visit. Lucas rolled up his sleeves and prepared a bowl of noodles for me instead.

As he brought the bowl to me, the steam rising in delicate wisps, I reached out to take it. But the hot bowl slipped slightly and I flinched, letting out a small gasp.

Lucas immediately set the bowl down and grabbed my hand, inspecting it with concern. “Are you okay?”

At that exact moment, the front door swung open.

Ryan stood in the doorway, his expression hardening as his eyes locked onto us—Lucas’s hands gently holding mine. The warmth in the room evaporated instantly, replaced by a cold tension.

His voice dropped, sharp and accusing. “What the hell is going on here?”