Chapter 5: The Cold Return

- SIERRA

The hospital bag was small. Most of what Aleena had brought in three days ago was trash now—blood-stained clothes and a pair of heels I never wanted to see again.

My hands shook as I folded a thin cardigan, my fingers deliberately touching over the fabric.

"You're white as a sheet, babe. Sit down before you do a face-plant on the floor."

Aleena kicked the door shut behind her, her eyes scanning the room like a hawk. She didn't wait for me to answer before she grabbed the bag from my hands.

"I’m fine," I said. My voice sounded thin, like paper tearing. "I told Dr. Morrigan I’m stable. I can’t stay here anymore. The smell of hospital is making me nauseous."

"Everything is making you nauseous," Aleena countered, shoving my toiletries into the side pocket. She paused, her gaze landing on the nightstand. A vase of fresh, white lilies sat there, looking far too expensive for a ward like this.

She arched an eyebrow, a small, hopeful smile tugging at her lips. "He finally showed up? Or did he just send these to clear his conscience?"

I followed her gaze. The lilies were beautiful, but they felt like a mockery. "Desmond? No."

"Then who?"

"Nigel," I said, my chest tightening. "Desmond’s driver. He dropped them off this morning while I was in the shower. He didn't stay. He just left a note saying the flowers were from Desmond and he hoped I felt better."

Aleena’s smile died. She picked up the small card tucked into the petals. It was anonymous. "Nigel? The guy who’s worked for Desmond for ten years? Why do you think Desmond was the one who bought you flowers? Did he tell you this?"

"He didn't," I whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed because my knees were starting to give out. "I know Desmond too well that he never gives me flowers. I think Nigel just felt sorry for me. He saw Desmond leave the office with Vivian that night while I was still in the office. It was a pity gesture. Nothing more."

Aleena cursed under her breath, tossing the card back onto the table. "That driver has more heart than the man you actually married. Are you sure about this? Going back there? We could go to my place. I have a spare room."

"No." I stood up, smoothing down the front of my new dress. It was a soft, pale blue—flowy, feminine, and completely unlike the sharp blazers I usually wore. "I need to be there. If I hide at your place, he’ll turn it into a legal battle just for the sake of winning. I’m going back and I’m staying quiet."

"Until when?"

I shrugged. "Dunno."

“Stop lying to yourself, babe.”

Aleena stood guard beside me. Her arms were crossed over her chest. When she looked at me, her eyes rimmed with red from lack of sleep—or maybe rage. Hard to tell with her.

“What? I'm not lying,” I replied softly. But as the words left my mouth, I could feel the truth heavy in my heart, completely different from what I was saying.

Three days ago, being here had felt like a much-needed break between mounting pressures at work, but now the entire room felt overwhelming. Or maybe it was just my own reflection in the mirror.

Aleena’s words hit me like a ton of bricks. It was a heavy truth, and I couldn't argue with it. But I had been carrying them for years. Three years of marriage to Desmond Zimmerman had taught me how to be silent, how to lower myself, how to absorb the coldness he radiated like a second skin.

“He’s just busy,” I said calmly.

“Busy doing what? Fooling around with that Vivian?” She stepped closer. “You collapsed at work. Dr. Morrigan actually asked me if your husband hated you.”

“He’s under a lot of pressure,” I said. “The expansion project. The investors. You know how he gets when he’s stressed.”

“Everyone’s under pressure. That doesn’t turn them into ice sculptures with a credit card.”

That made my fingers still.

Her voice cracked as she continued. “You fainted alone in the office after working sixteen hours straight, and he didn’t even answer your call when you needed him most.”

“He probably didn’t see it.”

“You called him six times that day.”

Aleena stared at me in disbelief, like she wanted to shake sense into my bones.

She’d been my best friend and confidante since I was an intern in the company. She’d watched me fall in love quietly, foolishly, and irreversibly. She’d also watched me broken piece by piece after the wedding.

But I didn’t want to burden her with my problems. She already had enough on her plate.

“You’re too kind,” Aleena said finally. “To someone who doesn’t deserve it.”

I smiled again. This time, it felt heavier. “Kindness isn’t something you give because someone deserves it.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. I bet she would change her tactics now.

“Today’s your discharge day,” Aleena said finally, letting out a heavy breath as she turned to my bag. "He’s not coming, is he?”

“No,” I said softly.

Aleena muttered something that definitely wasn’t a prayer. “I’ll take you home.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I do,” she cut in. “Because if I leave you to take a taxi home alone after this, I’ll never forgive myself.”

I let that go. Some battles weren’t worth fighting.

As Aleena helped me into my coat, I glanced at my phone sitting quietly on the dashboard. I reached out and kept checking, but there was nothing. No missed calls, no messages... he couldn't even be bothered to send a perfunctory, two-word text to make sure I was okay.

Aleena pressed her lips together. “One day,” she said, “you’re going to stop defending him. And when that day comes, I hope you don’t break in half.”

I remained silent and genuinely hoped that it was never gonna happened.

“Desmond doesn’t deserve you,” Aleena whispered.

“Deserve,” I mused, “has very little to do with love.”

She let out a heavy sigh. "You’re too calm," she muttered, grabbing my arm to steady me. "It’s creeping me out."

"I’m not calm," I said, looking at my reflection in the small mirror in the sink. I looked delicate and harmless, like a woman who had finally been broken—and that was my greatest weapon. "I’m just done."

I thought about that on the drive home.

The drive back to the villa was silent. Aleena kept glancing at me, probably waiting for me to break down or ask to turn the car around. I just watched the trees blur past the window. My hand stayed flat against my stomach, a silent promise to the tiny life I was carrying.

When we pulled into the driveway, a sleek, red sports car was already parked out front. My heart did a slow, heavy roll in my chest.

"Is that Vivian’s?" Aleena asked, her grip tightening on the steering wheel.

"No," I said, recognizing the vanity plate. "It’s Veronica."

"Oh, great. The Queen of Mean is in town."

I didn't answer. I just opened the car door and stepped out into the humid afternoon air. My legs felt like lead, but I kept my head up.

Aleena hovered beside me, her eyes scanning the space. “Is he here?”

I shook my head.

“Maybe not,” she muttered. It was the middle of the day, after all—he was probably 'slaving away' in his office, tucked behind the perfect excuse of being 'too busy' to be a person.

But as soon as we entered the foyer, I’d called it wrong. Not even close. I expected silence, or maybe the sound of Veronica’s voice. Instead, I heard Desmond's low voice and a sharp, high-pitched laugh coming from the drawing room.

"Honestly, Desmond, the house feels so much lighter without all that... heavy burden," a woman’s voice carried through the hall.

Aleena rolled her eyes so hard I thought they’d get stuck. We walked toward the door.