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?”