I felt feverish. My body was aching all over. My limbs were heavy, and I couldn't even summon the strength to argue back.

At least Bryan finally noticed the pile of soaked clothes in the corner. A flicker of realization passed through his eyes—something like guilt, or maybe just reluctant responsibility. Without another word, he rushed to dress me and get me to the hospital.

His phone rang a few times, but for once, he ignored it, too focused on helping me.

Until that one ringtone.

He had just pulled me up when it chimed through the room. Without hesitation, his hands left me. I barely managed to stay upright as he strode into the living room to answer.

A saccharine voice drifted over. "Bryan, the party's over. The rain's so heavy… Can you come pick me up?"

No hesitation. Not even a pause. He simply threw a cursory "I have to go, I'll be back soon" over his shoulder before vanishing out the door.

My mouth tasted bitter. My heart felt even worse.

She had her own custom ringtone, just one chime, and he picked up immediately. Meanwhile, I had called him over and over, stranded in the storm, my calls lost in the sea of unimportant notifications.

Why had I never seen it before?

Love and indifference—it only took one glance to tell them apart.

With the last of my strength, I dialed for an ambulance before the fever dragged me under.

…

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed.

Familiar voices had stirred me awake. Through the crack in the door, I saw Bryan.

He was standing outside, carefully supporting Peggy Westin, his assistant. Even his voice was laced with concern.

"You got a little wet getting out of the car. Let's have a doctor check on you, just in case. I don't want you ending up like Lydia."

As they passed my room, Peggy glanced up. Our eyes met.

A slow, taunting smile curled her lips.

"Oh, Bryan," she cooed, her voice all honey and malice, "Lydia has a fever, but you didn't stay with her?" She pouted. "Is it because I'm more delicate? Because if I got sick, you'd be more worried?"

Bryan hesitated for half a second before brushing it off. "I'll take her to the hospital after I get you checked out."

Just then, a nurse pushed open my door.

"Lydia, you're awake. Has your family arrived yet?"

Bryan stiffened.

But Peggy, unsatisfied with losing his attention even for a second, tugged at his sleeve and whined that they were calling her name.

Once, that would've torn me apart. I would've sobbed, begged, felt like my heart was being carved out of my chest.

But now?

I pressed a hand to my chest and felt… nothing. Or maybe just numbness.

I smiled and shook my head. "No one's coming. I can handle the paperwork myself."

The nurse frowned. "You passed out from a high fever. You should be resting. We can wait for your family—"

"I'm her family." Bryan's deep voice cut through the hallway.

The nurse blinked, glancing between Bryan and Peggy, still clinging to his arm. Then she nodded and told him to go handle my hospitalization.

At that moment, Peggy clutched her forehead and whimpered, "I don't feel well…"

Bryan hesitated.

Then he said, "Give her some medicine first. I'll come back to pay later."

And with that, he swept her up in his arms and walked away.

I stayed seated on the bed, unmoving.

I hadn't expected anything. And when you expect nothing, nothing can hurt you.

…

I called my best friend to the hospital.

She paid the hospital fees, bought me porridge, and sat by my bedside, chatting about anything and everything to keep me company.

Three, maybe four hours passed before Bryan finally texted me.

[Can't make it. Ordered you food.]

It was beef porridge. With cilantro.

I hated cilantro.

Without even looking at it, I tossed the container straight into the trash.

My friend hesitated. "Did you two fight?"

Once, I would have forced myself to eat it anyway. I would have been grateful—treasured every careless scrap of attention he threw my way.

A couple sat in the hospital bed across from me. The girl was hooked up to an IV while the boy fussed over her, running errands, making sure she was comfortable.

That look on his face—that was what love looked like.

But in all my years with Bryan, I had never once seen him look at me like that.

I let out a soft laugh. "No, we didn't fight. I just… suddenly don't love him anymore."

I glanced at my friend. "Know any good divorce lawyers?"

The words had barely left my lips when Bryan's cold, furious voice came from the doorway.

"Say that again."

"Divorce? Don't even think about it." Bryan shoved my best friend out the door and locked it behind him.

Then he kissed me, violent and relentless.

I bit down hard, tasting blood before he finally let go.

His gaze darkened. "Playing hard to get now, are we?"

He let out a cold laugh. "Fine. You've been dying for me to acknowledge you, haven't you? Well, let's go."

He made a quick call to one of his buddies, then yanked the IV from my arm and carried me out, ignoring my struggles.

Peggy's ringtone chimed over and over, but he didn't even glance at his phone. He was too busy keeping me pinned down in the car.

Inside a private dining room, his friends were already gathered.

With a stony face, he ordered, "Guys, meet my wife."

The group exchanged bewildered glances before forcing out a few half-hearted greetings.

Eight years of marriage, endless fights, and only now did he finally introduce me to them.

But I couldn't bring myself to care anymore.

I shook my head. "No need for that. We're getting a divorce soon."

His face turned to ice.

The tension in the room thickened. Seizing the chance, I excused myself to the restroom, stepping out for some air.

That's when I overheard someone ask him, "For real, Bryan? This is actually your wife? Why'd you keep it a secret?"

"And what's the deal with Peggy? Your new girl or what?"

Bryan's voice was indifferent. "Lydia is my wife, yeah. But if she hadn't chased after me so desperately, I wouldn't have married her. As for Peggy, she's just my assistant."

I couldn't say whether he loved her or not.

But he definitely didn't love me.

Otherwise, how could he reduce my years of devotion to something so worthless?

Good thing I'd stopped caring.

I pushed the door open. The room fell silent.

Faces stiffened. His friends looked awkward and uneasy.

Even Bryan looked momentarily thrown off, though he quickly masked it with irritation when he saw my calm expression.

Just as he was about to speak, that ringtone cut through the air again.

Peggy's voice, trembling with tears, rang out. "Bryan, where are you? They're about to give me the injection. I'm so scared…"

The hardness in his expression melted instantly. His voice turned gentle. "I'm on my way."

I let out a quiet breath, thinking he was finally done with me.

But before I could take a step, he seized my wrist in a vice grip.

"Lydia, whether you like it or not, you're mine. Alive or dead, you belong to me. I'm never agreeing to a divorce. And don't even think about running. From now on, wherever I go, you go."

I almost yelled at him.

Instead, I slapped him hard across the face.

"Bryan, are you out of your mind? You're running off to your little lover, and you expect me to tag along?"

It turned out, he really did expect me to follow.

In the hospital room, Peggy curled into Bryan's embrace, sobbing softly as she stretched out a trembling hand for the injection.

"Bryan, I'm scared."

He was infinitely patient with her, soothing her in a voice I had never heard before.

For a moment, I drifted back to the past.

I had been just like her once—a delicate girl afraid of pain.

When we first started dating, I caught a cold and needed an injection. I nestled into his arms, hoping for comfort.

But he had pulled away in disgust.

"A grown woman afraid of needles? How pathetic."

The needle had pierced my wrist, but it was my heart that had truly been stabbed that day.

Over time, I stopped fearing injections.

Now, I feared nothing. Not pain, not losing love—nothing at all.

I watched Bryan in silence, but he kept stealing glances at me.

When he saw my indifference, his expression darkened.

If I so much as showed a flicker of unhappiness, he smirked in satisfaction.

And that was when I realized—his tenderness toward Peggy wasn't about love.

It was about me.

As if he needed me to see it, to react.

What was the point of playing these games when he didn't love me?

I shook my head, tired of this charade, and stood to leave.

But the moment I got up, the room spun violently.

I had only received half my IV treatment, and my fever was still raging.

Before I could steady myself, Bryan abandoned Peggy and grabbed my wrist, forcing me back against the wall.

Pain shot through my wrist and my pounding head, but he didn't care.

Instead, his lips curled in satisfaction.

"So much for acting like you don't care. Just admit it, Lydia. You're obsessed with me. That's why you can't let go."

I opened my mouth to retort, but before I could say a word, the door behind me swung open.

I stumbled backward—

And fell into the warmth of a solid embrace.

I turned my head, and my breath caught.

That face—

It had been years.

He steadied me, his hand instinctively pressing against my forehead to check my temperature. Then, without hesitation, he turned to take me to a doctor.

But Bryan stepped in his way.

I was caught between them as tension crackled in the air.

Bryan's brow furrowed deeply. I knew that look all too well—he was furious.

"Who the hell are you? And what gives you the right to touch my wife?"

Luke Cameron laughed, calm and unbothered.

"My name is Luke. Lydia's best friend sent me."

He met Bryan's gaze head-on, voice unwavering.

"I'm her divorce lawyer. She won't be your wife much longer."

Bryan's pupils shrank.