Chapter 5

Matthew didn't move. His neck stayed stiff and tense, but he kept patting Shirley's shoulder as if he could just keep being gentle, patient, loving forever.

But Shirley knew him too well. He could be sweet at one moment and cruel the next—that was always his style.

The doctor's hands shook under Matthew's icy stare. He worked as carefully as he could, wrapping her leg so lightly, as if he was afraid to breathe.

Finally, he sighed in relief when he finished.

"All done. Just make sure you keep the bandage dry until the wound scabs."

Matthew frowned, not satisfied.

"That's it? You're not gonna do an X-ray? What if she fractured something?"

The doctor hesitated. "From what I can tell, no bones are broken. She's scratched up pretty badly, but it's just a surface injury. Just make sure it doesn't get infected."

"Do you even know what you're doing?" Matthew snapped, irritation sharp in his voice.

The doctor froze, embarrassed.

Shirley, face burning from the scene, just wanted out. She struggled to get down, but Matthew held her tighter, refusing to let go.

He grilled the doctor with a few more questions, only letting the man go after he swore up and down that there was nothing serious.

Matthew carried Shirley out as if she weighed nothing. At the door, Shirley saw Astrid waiting for him. But Matthew didn't even notice—he walked right past and stuffed Shirley into the car.

He rubbed the bite mark on his neck, looking more resigned than angry, as if he was weirdly okay with it.

Astrid's face twisted with fury as she watched, teeth clenched. She started toward them, but the car roared to life and sped off, leaving her behind.

Shirley leaned against the window, eyes on the mirror. As Astrid's figure shrank in the distance, she asked Matthew coldly, "Forgetting something?"

Matthew glanced at her. "What?"

He was driving, his forearm muscles flexing smoothly as the veins shifted just beneath the skin.

There was a time when every little detail about him had felt dangerously irresistible to Shirley. Now, all she could think was how looks didn't mean a damn thing.

"Your precious Astrid Dittman," she answered.

He barely frowned. "She can call an Uber."

As if it was nothing.

Then, casual as ever, he reached over and pinched her cheek, like old times. "And she's not mine. She's our sister-in-law. Stop saying stuff like that from now on."

Shirley smacked his hand away. "Sister-in-law, huh? Did you think about that when you were carrying her, holding her, and basically having your hands all over her?"

The sharpness in her voice cut deeper the longer she went.

"Guess the saying's true—nothing's more fun than another man's wife. Why are you pretending as if nothing was going on between you two?"

Matthew's face went hard, his lips pressed tight, and his dark eyes burned cold.

He didn't answer, and she took his silence as guilt.

All the way home, Shirley poked at him again and again, her little jabs like firecrackers going off. He kept his mouth shut as if he were a corpse.

By the time they got to the apartment, everything Shirley had left in chaos was spotless. Matthew had cleaned it all. He settled her in bed, then disappeared into the kitchen.

A few minutes later, he came back with a glass of milk. He set it down, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"What do you want to eat? I'll cook."

"Nothing."

She pulled the blanket over her head, pretending to sleep.

"Fine," he said softly. "I'll make something you like. You need to get your strength back."

When he left, Shirley looked around the familiar room. Slowly, the storm inside her quieted, replaced by old memories.

Back in high school, Matthew was extremely hard to get—he was handsome, rich, and aloof. Every girl wanted him.

She pursued him for weeks, bringing him iced coffee, candy bars, and little treats he never touched. Only later did she learn he hated sweets.

Just when she was about to give up, he suddenly agreed to be her boyfriend.

She remembered that rush, how even the spring wind tasted like sugar. They fought, sure, but she always quickly bounced back, like a little sun that refused to stop shining.

They would get in a fight one day, and she would apologize the next. Her love for him had made her forgive him so many times that she lost count.

But they split on graduation day. She hadn't managed to apologize before they went their separate ways.

By the time she looked for him in college, Astrid was already there, tucked at his side. Matthew spoiled Astrid in ways he never did for her.

So, it turned out the noble prince could lower his pride for a girl. But somehow, he never did for her.

Crash!

Right then, the sound of shattering glass snapped her out of the memory.

"I'm fine! Don't worry," Matthew called from the kitchen. "Just dropped a cup."

Shirley rolled her eyes. She hadn't even asked.

Matthew came back carrying a steaming bowl and set it on the table beside her.

"Don't move. I'll feed you. I made seafood chowder—your favorite."

The rich smell filled her nose, making her chest tighten. Tears stung, but she forced herself to swallow them down. Her words came out sharp instead.

"You know I'm not supposed to eat shellfish while I'm healing. What, are you trying to kill me? Did you already take out a fat insurance policy on me?"

Matthew froze mid-motion, then said quietly, "I didn't use clams or shrimp. Just cod and salmon. I asked the doctor. It's fine."

He lifted the spoon toward her. "Come on. Just a couple of bites. If you don't like it, I'll make something else."

Her stomach betrayed her, growling. She gave in for two mouthfuls, and Matthew lit up with joy.

"Good girl. One more?"

"Get lost."

He just smiled faintly and wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin.

"If I get lost, who's gonna take care of you? You don't know how good you have it. When we're old, will you feed me like this?"

Shirley smirked from under the blanket. "If I'm in a good mood, maybe I'll slip sand in your food. If I'm not, I'll just feed you straight-up poop."

Matthew let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "You're gonna be the death of me."

But when he leaned closer, his eyes weren't laughing. They burned dark and dangerous, pulling her in until his lips met hers. At first, it was soft and careful, but quickly it turned hungry and desperate.

His hand brushed her skin, and before he could stop himself, he whispered against her lips, "Shirley, let's have a baby."

She shoved him hard, kicking him off the bed.

Sure, she was attracted to his figure, but that was all there was to it.

A baby? With him? Not a chance! She would only do that with someone she truly loved.

"If you want kids, have Astrid give you one. I'm sure she'd be thrilled."

Having a baby was the last thing she'd do in this situation.

Matthew's expression iced over. He sat back, staring at her turned back, his voice flat with weariness. "Shirley, can we not do this right now?"

She didn't answer.

Silence spread between them, thick and heavy.

Finally, he sighed and tried again. "I took care of your leave at work. If you need to go out, the driver will take you. And when you're healed, I'll buy you a new car. Any kind you want. Can we just stop fighting?"

Shirley listened, tired down to her bones. Astrid had this man wrapped around her finger. His words and promises all sounded fake now.

She only wanted to say to him, "Pay me back. I don't want your stupid car."

But after thinking for a while, she changed her mind. She turned slowly and met his eyes with calm, steady resolve.

"Matthew, I want a divorce."