Novels by Dancingpem

Chapter FiveMia insisted that I stay at her apartment until my fever disappeared.“You are not going back to that mansion just to prove you can stand upright,” she said, placing a bowl of soup on the coffee table.“I wasn't planning to.”“Good. Because I have no intention of watching you collapse for a man who wouldn't cross a room for you.”I managed a small smile. “You make it sound simple.”“It is simple. He keeps choosing her. You keep getting hurt. Now you choose yourself.”I ate a few spoonfuls. My appetite was returning, but my thoughts kept circling the hospital. Liam had looked at Scarlett as though the rest of the world had disappeared. I had seen that expression before, years ago, in photographs from their relationship.I had once believed marriage would change it.The next afternoon, Mia drove me to collect my prescription and a few things from the mansion. I had no intention of staying long. The housekeeper let us in, then told me Liam had gone out.I was relieved.As we

Chapter FourThe rain began before noon, tapping against the windows of the gallery where I had gone to meet Benjamin.He had asked me to look at a few paintings for the exhibition he was helping organise. I had not agreed to submit anything yet, but I wanted to see the work and remind myself what it felt like to be part of that world.When the meeting ended, I checked my phone. Liam had sent a message earlier.“I'll pick you up at four. Send me the address.“I had stared at it for several seconds before replying with the gallery's location. It was not because I expected anything from him. I simply did not want another argument about transportation.At four fifteen, he had not arrived.At four thirty, I called. The phone rang until the call disconnected. I tried again five minutes later.“I'm busy,” he answered.“You said you would pick me up.”“Something came up.”“What happened?”“Scarlett isn't feeling well. I'm taking her to get checked.”I looked through the gallery window. Rain

Chapter threeLiam came home early on Thursday, which was unusual enough to make the housekeeper look twice at the clock.I was in the kitchen, pouring water into a glass. He entered, loosened his tie and glanced at the dining table.“Where is dinner?”“The staff are preparing it.”He looked at me. “You used to make sure it was ready when I arrived.”“I used to do many things.”His brows drew together. “What is that supposed to mean?”“Nothing.”I carried my glass upstairs. I could feel his gaze following me, but I did not turn around. In the past, I would have explained my tone, softened my words and tried to prevent an argument. Now I was beginning to understand how exhausting it was to manage another person's comfort while ignoring my own.At seven, Liam received a call. I heard Scarlett's name before he lowered his voice.“What's wrong?” he asked. A pause followed. “Don't worry. I'll come.”He ended the call and reached for his keys.“Are you going out?” I asked.“Scarlett needs m

Chapter TwoThe Blackwell mansion looked exactly as it had the morning I left for my father's funeral. The marble floors shone beneath the chandeliers. White roses stood in the entrance hall, replaced every few days by staff who had no idea that the woman living among them was preparing to disappear.I returned shortly after nine the following morning. I had spent the night at Mia's apartment, where she had made tea, sat beside me and allowed me to cry without asking me to explain. By sunrise, the tears had stopped. The grief had not, but something else had taken its place.Resolve.I went upstairs and opened the wardrobe. Rows of dresses hung in careful order. Most had been selected because Liam liked them. I remembered buying a blue silk dress after he once said Scarlett looked elegant in that colour. I had worn it to a charity dinner. He had barely glanced at me.I touched the fabric, then closed the wardrobe.My phone showed five missed calls from Liam. His message was brief.“Com

OneThe first person to tell me my husband was coming was the funeral director.“He is on his way, Mrs. Blackwell,” he said gently, as though those words could make the empty space beside me less painful.I nodded. My fingers were wrapped around the small photograph of my father that rested on the table beside his coffin. In it, Dad was smiling, his silver hair slightly untidy, his eyes bright with the sort of mischief that had survived even his worst days.He had asked for Liam twice before he died.The first time, he had wanted to thank him for promising to arrange the treatment that might have bought him more time. The second time, he had simply wanted to see his daughter's husband standing beside her. I had lied both times. I told Dad that Liami was busy with an important meeting and would come as soon as he could.Dad had smiled weakly and told me not to trouble myself.That was the last kindness he gave me: pretending he did not know I was being abandoned.five years of marriage