Chapter 2

I slid the divorce papers into the middle of the folder and turned to make myself breakfast.

I was halfway through a bowl of oatmeal when Wayne walked into the dining room. He cast a glance at my bowl and frowned in disgust.

"Who eats that for breakfast? I want pancakes," he said.

I finished the last bite, stood up, and handed him the folder.

Without so much as glancing at it, Wayne flipped it open and penned his signature while complaining I was overstepping by handling his assistant's work.

Taking the folder back, I grabbed my shoes and prepared to leave.

"Lydia, I said I want pancakes!" Wayne snapped impatiently from behind.

I turned to him, my voice even as I said, "I'm dropping this off, then I'm heading to the hospital."

Just as he was about to say something in retort, Naomi emerged from the bedroom.

"Mr. Miller, did I oversleep?" she asked.

As Wayne turned to her, I took the opportunity to leave. I didn't notice the look he gave me as I walked away.

Once I was out, I pulled the divorce papers from the folder and skimmed them. I would finally be free 30 days from now.

When I returned from the law firm, I went straight to the bedroom and began packing my things.

Wayne noticed, a look of surprise flickering across his face.

"I told you that you don't have to move out."

I paused momentarily before replying absentmindedly, "It's inconvenient for me now that Ms. Stewart is here."

My words caught him off guard. He noticed the change in me since returning from the hospital.

Before he could question further, Naomi called him to dinner. After Wayne left, I shut my eyes briefly, then went back to packing.

A bitter smile tugged at my lips as I looked at the tiny shelf where all my clothes had been tucked away. Six years of marriage, and everything I owned fit into a single shelf.

Next, I bagged up every gift I had ever given Wayne in a garbage bag. Everything I ever gave him, for birthdays and special occasions, lay forgotten in the corner, shrouded in dust. There was no reason to keep them now.

Wheeling my suitcase toward the guest room, I passed by the dining area, noticing Wayne painstakingly peeling shrimp for Naomi. I turned my gaze away and continued walking.

"Wait!" he called out suddenly.

I turned to look at him curiously.

"Join us," he said, his voice holding an unfamiliar hesitation.

I stared at him in disbelief, then rejected him outright.

Wayne clearly hadn't expected me to refuse. His expression darkened with frustration as he retorted, "Suit yourself."

…

After putting aside the suitcase, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror.

A polite smile curved my mouth like a mask, while exhaustion clouded my eyes. I let out a dry laugh at the reflection that looked nothing like a woman in her 20s.

I was just about to drift off to sleep when Wayne suddenly burst through the door, his eyes wide with panic.

"Lydia, Naomi burned her hand. We have to go to the hospital!"

I frowned at his words, instinctively pulling back, but he had already grabbed my wrist and dragged me out.

Clutching her hand, Naomi whimpered. "Mr. Miller, let's not trouble Lydia. I'm fine… Ouch!"

I glanced at the back of her hand, where a few droplets of oil had splashed. Painful, perhaps, but it was barely a burn.

"Burns can be serious. It could leave a scar," Wayne said, his tone full of concern.

Looking at the scene unfold, my gaze dropped to the scar on the back of my left hand.

One evening, during dinner at home with Wayne's friends, Naomi had deliberately spilled a pot of boiling beef stew on me.

When I confronted her, Wayne shielded her and retorted, "She didn't mean to. You seemed fine, so stop making a scene."

I ended up taking painkillers and waited for the pain to dull before going to the hospital alone. The burn eventually scarred, permanently marring my skin.

But now, watching his frantic concern, I understood. He knew burns could scar. It just hadn't mattered when it was me.

On the way to the hospital, we hit rush-hour traffic. Wayne sat in the backseat, barking at me to drive faster, repeating it like a chant.

As the light turned green, a car came out of nowhere and barreled toward us. In the instant of impact, I felt a crushing pain shoot through the lower half of my body.