Just a Bowl of Soup

When Ian walked through the door, the first thing he saw was Rose, hands clasped tightly, apologizing repeatedly.

"What's your problem now, Hazel?! Rosie came here out of concern for you!" he snapped.

The housekeeper looked flustered, about to explain, but Rose spoke first, her voice soft and trembling. "Ian, don't be mad. It's my fault. I couldn't resist when I smelled the soup—it just smelled so good. I only meant to take a sip, but before I knew it, I finished the whole thing. Hazel had every right to be upset…"

Her eyes brimmed with tears, and Ian's anger vanished instantly, replaced by tenderness. "It's just a bowl of soup. You can have all you want once you're discharged. Why make a fuss with Rosie over something so trivial?"

He turned coldly to the housekeeper. "Rosie hasn't had much of an appetite lately, and since she happens to like your soup, go back and make another pot, then send it over to her villa."

The housekeeper nodded hurriedly and scurried out.

Ian's expression softened again as he leaned down to wipe the tears from Rose's cheeks. "Stop crying, or your eyes will look really puffy."

Rose gave a watery laugh and threw herself into his arms. "You're teasing me again."

They left the ward together, still laughing and whispering, until the corridor fell silent once more. I realized then that the same old misunderstandings, scoldings, and accusations—things that once made my chest ache—no longer stirred anything inside me. I didn't want to argue, didn't want to cry, didn't even want to explain anymore.

…

An hour later, while the doctor came to check my wounds, one of Ian's men swaggered into the room, urging me to leave the hospital as soon as possible. His enemies were still restless, they said.

One of them, perhaps out of pity, asked if I needed extra painkillers. I shook my head. "It's fine." These pains were nothing new to me. I was long used to them.

They drove me home and left me at the gate, tossing the bag of medicine into my hands before speeding off. Ian didn't care about me, so his men didn't see me with any regard. To them, I was nothing.

When I opened the door, the house was empty. Even the part-time cleaner was gone. Then, Ian's call came, his voice as cold and detached as ever. "Rosie's not feeling well. Your housekeeper's more attentive, so I had her and the others go over to help. You'll be staying by yourself for a few days. Once Rosie's better, they'll return."

He said it so naturally, as if the one who'd been stabbed five times and nearly died wasn't me—but her.

"Got it."

He paused for a while, sensing my distant tone. "Write down what you want to eat. The housekeeper will make it for you once she's back."

"Got it."

Even through the phone, I could sense his frown.

"Why are you giving me an attitude? It's just a bowl of soup! Hazel Tanner, don't forget—I told you the day I married you that you were only here to protect Rosie. Don't think that just because you've been Mrs. Sutherland for three years, you can put yourself above her!"

I nodded mechanically. "Got it."

"You—" His anger flared again, but before he could finish, Rose's voice called from somewhere close by. "Ian, come have some cake!"

The line went dead.

Forty-eight hours left until erasure.

I felt hungry, but when I went into the kitchen, I realized everything had been taken—the fridge was completely empty. Because of Ian's status, he never allowed me to order takeout. I rummaged through the cupboards until I found a single expired packet of instant noodles.

The kettle had been broken for weeks, so I used hot water from the heater to soak the noodles and set the bowl on the dining table.

My phone buzzed—Rose was streaming again. This time, they weren't at the villa. From the background, it looked like a hot spring resort. Rose sat in a loose T-shirt, eating chocolate cake while chatting with her viewers. The man off-camera occasionally fed her a bite with a fork, his hand gentle and familiar.

'Can't you show more couple moments? That hand alone looks like it belongs to a total heartthrob!'

Rose giggled. "My boyfriend's the most handsome man in the world. Every time he smiles, my heart melts. He pursued me first, but I was too shy, too scared… It took me this long to finally say yes. The cake's sweet, but not as sweet as we are."

The man's hand reached in to ruffle her hair, and she giggled again, cheeks flushed pink.

The Blame That Never Ends

By the time Rose finished half her cake, I had finished my awful instant noodles.

On her stream, her other phone suddenly lit up. She glanced at the screen, her eyes reddening as surprise flickered across her face. A few seconds later, she broke down in tears before an audience of over a hundred thousand viewers.

The livestream ended abruptly. I was still staring blankly at my phone when Ian's call came through. His voice struck like a whip the moment I answered. "Hazel Tanner, all this—over a bowl of soup? Over a few maids? You actually leaked photos of me and Rosie online?! If she gets hurt because of you, you could die ten times and it still wouldn't be enough!"

"I don't know what you're talking about. As soon as I got home, I—"

"Still denying it? Rosie said she only ever sent those pictures to you. No one else saw them—not even me! And today's resort—we've been there before. You were just in the livestream. I saw you!" His voice dropped to a furious growl, every word clenched between his teeth.

If I'd been standing in front of him, I knew what would've happened—he would've kicked me to the floor and made me kneel to Rose in apology.

Just like last winter, when Rose had menstrual cramps and insisted I take care of her. I had just miscarried and was too weak, so I apologized softly, "I'm sorry." That alone was enough to make Ian shove me down by the shoulders.

I remembered bowing again and again—ten times, maybe more—until my forehead was bleeding before Rose tearfully said she forgave me.

Ian's ragged breathing through the phone dragged me out of the memory. I stared at the soup of my instant noodles and said quietly, "It wasn't me. I have no reason to do that."

Then, I heard Rose's trembling voice in the background. "Ian, I think… someone's watching me outside. I'm scared…"

The call cut off. I sat motionless at the table, staring into space.

Sure enough, ten minutes later, Ian's men unlocked my door and stormed in. Without a word, they grabbed me like a sack of grain. "Move it. Boss wants you to stand in for Ms. Wells."

…

The hot spring villa had a massive glass window. They sat me at a table right in front of it, a book shoved into my hands. Across the room, in the safest corner, Ian held Rose gently in his arms. "Don't be afraid," he whispered. "I'm here. I'll protect you."

She buried herself in his chest, her small hands clutching the fabric of his expensive shirt. "Ian, will they kill me? I'm scared. I don't want to get hurt…"

"They won't," he murmured. "You're safe here. I promise."

Her crying eased into sniffles. "Ian, what would I do without you?"

"Don't talk nonsense. You'll always have me. I'll be with you until we're old."

The sound of their kisses filled the room—soft, wet, unmistakable. No matter how hard I tried to focus on the words in front of me, every sound still reached my ears. It went on for half an hour before stopping just short of the end.

Then, Rose's sweet voice drifted across the silence. "Ian, Hazel's still here. She's your wife, after all. Maybe you should have someone protect her, too."

Ian cast me a cold glance. "If she hadn't exposed our photos and our location, you wouldn't be scared right now. She brought this on herself."

I tried to keep reading, but the words blurred. I thought I had run out of pain long ago—so why were there still tears? I didn't understand, and I didn't want to.

I must have dozed off at some point. When I woke, pain and exhaustion dulled everything around me. The system's voice echoed faintly in my ear, "Twenty-four hours remaining."

But before I could move, Ian's slap cracked across my face. "Hazel Tanner, how can you be so vile? How dare you sneak in here while I was asleep?!"

I shot up too quickly, pulling at the wound on my abdomen. "Ah—"

"Cut the act," he snarled. "Where's Rosie?"

It was then that I realized I was in their bedroom. I didn't even know how I got there, but Rose was gone.

"I don't know. I was by the window last night—"

"Liar! Where did you send her?"

The End of the Line

I shook my head. "I don't know."

Ian's voice dropped, tight with fury. "You'd better really be clueless, Hazel, or I swear I won't let you off!"

At that, he stormed out, making call after call until he finally learned where Rose was being held. "Get a few men. Bring her with us!"

They tied my legs together and threw me into the backseat of Ian's car. He drove himself, slamming the accelerator down. In all three years of marriage, it was the first time I'd ever seen him so out of control.

…

When we reached the coast, Rose was hanging by her wrists from a boat mast, crying so hard her voice broke. "Ian! You're finally here! I'm scared—save me!"

"Rosie!" Ian's voice trembled with panic as he called her name. Then, his expression hardened when he looked up at his enemies on the deck. "Let her go. I'll trade you my wife—plus two territories and ten properties."

A slow grin spread across the thug's scarred face. "Deal."

As they hoisted me upward, Ian held Rose tightly, whispering soft words to calm her down. By the time I reached the top, he had already turned away, still clutching the woman he loved. That familiar back—how many times had I seen it before? Only this time, he wasn't alone.

The enemy lit a cigarette and gave a lazy glance in my direction. "Do it."

The red-hot iron pressed into my skin. I couldn't hold back the scream that tore out of me. "Just kill me already!" I gasped.

He shook his head slowly. "That'd be too easy. My brother died because of Ian. If I kill you fast, it's not fair. Better to take it slow—and show everyone the great Ian Sutherland isn't invincible after all."

I thrashed, but the branding iron kept finding my skin—each burn more precise than the last. The pain was so sharp I couldn't even form words. I didn't know how many times they burned me before my body finally gave out. When they untied me, I barely felt anything at all.

But before I could take a full breath, a new pain seared my wrist. The man had sliced it open—and then shoved my arm into the sea.

Blood poured into the water, turning it crimson in seconds. I couldn't move. Someone forced my head sideways so I had no choice but to watch it happen—watch the life drain out of me, drop by drop. And somehow, I laughed.

'Ian… if I die here, will you find another woman to be the shield for your precious girl? Or will you finally marry her instead? Either way, it won't matter to me anymore.'

My vision dimmed, the world slipping away, until I faintly heard footsteps—his men, arriving too late as always.

There were voices, a rough exchange, and then I was lifted onto a stretcher. Inside the ambulance, they played cards and laughed like nothing had happened.

Somewhere in the blur, one of them said, "Boss really loves Ms. Wells. He wasn't even going to retaliate, but when he saw her wrist scratched, he lost it—killed the whole crew himself."

Another man chuckled. "You hear the news? Boss is retiring. Hanging it up for good—all for Ms. Wells."

…

When I woke in the hospital, the system's voice echoed faintly, "Six hours remaining."

I suddenly remembered what they said in the ambulance. Ian was giving up everything because Rose had a scratch on her wrist.

I looked down at my own wrist, wrapped in layers of gauze, and at the countless burns and cuts all over my body. A bitter smile pulled at my lips. Three years I'd spent trying to save him—three years failing—and in the end, someone else did it with a single wound.

And the one who completed the mission… wasn't me.

With four hours left, I ignored the doctors' protests and dragged my battered body back to the villa. I only wanted to see that medical report one last time before I disappeared. But when I arrived, the yard was a mess and the house completely empty. The guest room was torn apart, and the drawers were ransacked—everything gone.

I called Ian. He answered impatiently. "I'm planning to retire for good. To do that, I have to sell everything and start clean. Find somewhere else to stay. Once Rosie's recovered, we'll get a divorce."

I opened my mouth weakly. "But the things in my bedroom drawer—"

"Hazel Tanner, don't push your luck!" His voice rose, sharp and angry. "Rosie got hurt because of you. I already showed mercy by sending people to save you. What, you expect me to buy you your own house too? Just so you can keep your jewelry?"