Broken

LILA

The first thought I had was, This wasn't the man I married.

I stared at Lowell in disbelief.

"Is that all you're going to say?"

His expression faltered as his eyes took in the state of my burns.

For a brief second, just a brief second, a flicker of worry passed through his gaze. He even made a move to rise and come toward me, until—

"My stomach!" Claire moaned in pain.

That was all it took for his attention to snap back to her.

"What's wrong? Did the liquid splash there, too?"

"No... It's just that..." she groaned weakly. "In my haste to see you, I didn't eat all day. My ulcer is acting up."

"Oh..."

"What are you waiting for, brother?" Tiana rushed over. "You should take her out to eat. The person who's meant to cook is useless right now."

"But..." Lowell glanced at me, conflicted.

"You can go with your wife," Claire sighed. "I can manage. She needs you more—ah!"

"Brother!"

"Enough!" Mrs. Black cut in sharply. "I didn't raise you this way, Lowell! Take her to dinner now. In fact, we should all go together."

"Yes, that's perfect," Tiana added eagerly. "Our favourite restaurant is just a few minutes away. Right, brother?"

Resignation flashed through Lowell's eyes as he helped Claire to her feet.

"You should go to the hospital first and meet us at the restaurant, Lila," he said calmly. "Claire is a guest. I'm doing this so you won't have to cook."

And then they all left.

As I headed to the hospital alone, hot tears streamed down my face.

I always knew Lowell's family was unyielding and untrusting of me, but how had I never seen this side of them?

One would think he'd at least remember that we were once friends before marriage. But with Claire here, even that meant nothing.

Forget the effort I'd put in over the past five years. Even eternity wouldn't make him change his mind about me.

The more I thought about it, the more my heart ached until I was certain.

Leaving was my only choice.

****

Used to Lowell's complaints whenever any of the maids cooked for him, I woke before everyone else the next morning and went straight to the kitchen.

"Cooking is what you're majorly good at," he used to say.

To others, it sounded like an insult. To me, it was something I clung to, grateful that there was at least one thing about me he loved.

I was already making his coffee when it hit me that I didn't have to. I had decided to leave, so I no longer needed to curry his favour.

"Your hand seems to be working perfectly fine," a familiar voice said coolly. "So you exaggerated last night."

The voice that would've made my stomach clench just days ago now only pricked my ears as my husband walked out in a crisp black suit, ready for work.

I glanced down at my bandaged arm.

"You're right," I said quietly. "I exaggerated."

I didn't have the strength to argue. But my response made Lowell pause.

"Are you still acting up?" he asked. "You didn't join us for dinner yesterday."

"Acting up?"

"Because of Claire." He rolled his eyes. "I'm not dumb, Lila. I know you were jealous. She was my first love, nothing more."

"Yet you called me Claire for five years," I whispered. "Did you ever see me for who I was, Lowell?"

"I told you I liked the name."

"A name that belongs to your first love."

"Did I force you to accept it?"

"Don't avoid the question," I pressed. "Am I really just a placeholder?"

"Stop being dramatic," he sighed. "If you feel insecure about her, that's not my fault."

Insecure?

"Look," Lowell said sternly, pinning me with his gaze. "Claire just moved back to the city and has nowhere to stay. She'll be living with us until she finds an apartment. I expect you to treat her well. And don't repeat the disrespectful behaviour you showed last night."

I stared at him, stunned.

"Do I have any say in this as your wife?"

"My guest is your guest," Lowell dismissed. "What more is there to say?"

Inhaling deeply, I decided to let it go.

"Okay." I placed the food before him. "I didn't intentionally skip dinner. I had to—"

"That's enough," he cut in. "I don't need to know why. Just make sure it doesn't happen again."

Before I could respond, his phone began to ring and instantly, a bright smile spread across his face.

"Claire? I'm just about to head out. What about you?"

With every second that passed, with every word he spoke, his smile grew wider.

This was a man who had never even spared me a smirk. A man whose coldness I once thought was unchangeable, appealing, even.

"That's just how my husband is," I used to say, defending him endlessly.

What a fool I was.

Lowering his voice, Lowell picked up his coffee, then froze.

"Oh. You're already at the restaurant? You should've told me you wanted breakfast together. I would've picked you up."

And just like that, the mug slipped from his hand, coffee splashing across the counter.

"I'm on my way."

My anger flared as I watched him stand.

"Lowell! I cooked despite being in pain, and you're just going to abandon it?"

"Not again, Lila," he sighed. "It's just food, isn't it?"

"Food I took my time to make."

"Fine. Throw it out or give it to Smith." He snapped without a second thought.

And I couldn't bring myself to dwell on the fact that he'd just yelled at me.

Not when my husband had just told me to give the meal I cooked for him to our dog, simply because he wanted to eat with his first love.