Chapter 4

As the pearls clattered against the floor, Sierra turned white.

"That was your dad's…"

I bent over to gather them.

Tatum extended his hand, but I pulled away from him.

Standing there, Hazel kept apologizing.

"I had no idea the bracelet meant so much. Don't put this on Tatum, Brooke. I only asked him for it because the pearls were pretty."

Tatum scowled.

"I assumed it was just some cheap beads."

"You never bothered to ask."

I crawled under the hospital bed and scoured every corner of the hallway, only to retrieve seventeen pearls.

There used to be twenty-four.

Sierra clutched the bedsheet, tears seeping out from under her bandage.

"It's fine. Stop searching for the rest."

Even so, Sierra's hands fumbled around the area where the pearls had scattered.

I cupped the pearls in her palm.

Tatum murmured, "I'll find a craftsman to match the missing seven."

Sierra shook her head.

"It won't be the same anymore."

A heavy silence fell over the ward.

Out of nowhere, Hazel clutched her chest; her breathing hitched.

Tatum jumped straight to holding her up.

"Are you alright?"

"I guess everything was just overwhelming…"

Tatum carried her to a chair and rubbed her back gently.

Sierra sat up in bed, her eyes covered in surgical gauze.

He didn't even apologize to her.

I called Tatum out to the hallway.

"Get her out of here."

"Hazel isn't feeling well."

"And is my mom doing any better?"

"The thing with the bracelet was an accident. She didn't mean for it to happen."

"What about the car? The front seat, the garage parking pass, my sleepwear, the scarf I had given you—were all of those accidents too?"

Tatum rubbed his temples.

"What are you trying to get at?"

"I just want to know if there's anything you've truly kept just for me over the past six years."

He fell silent for a bit.

"Isn't it enough that I provide you with a roof over your head, living expenses, and the title of Mrs. Everest?"

"I paid the down payment for the house, and we split the mortgage between us. I've never taken a dime from you either. As for the glory of being your wife…"

I paused.

"Was that place truly meant for me?"

Hazel's sobs echoed from the ward.

Tatum's eyes reflected annoyance.

"You were so eager to marry me back then, but now you're the one dredging up the past."

"Who picked out the car?"

"I did."

"Who picked the car model?"

Tatum didn't answer.

"Who was the passenger seat set up for?"

"Brooke, it's literally just a seat."

"Even before we got married, you knew she would be taking that seat, right?"

Tatum shifted his gaze in the direction of the ward, his tone turning icy.

"Hazel wasn't into the whole marriage thing. Plus, she couldn't deal with my parents. You're gentle, stable, and wife-material. I thought six years was enough for you to understand that marriage isn't built on love alone."

The tiny spark of hope I held suddenly went dead.

He didn't change after we got married.

From the day he proposed, he had already split the roles of wife and the person he loved into two separate places.

One was to care for his parents, pay down the mortgage, and keep up appearances.

The other had exclusive rights to the passenger seat, with every habit remembered by him.

That night, I went home on my own and packed my bags.

Before walking away from him, I wanted to check all the loan, insurance, and vehicle records.

I logged into the car's connected account, only to find recordings dating back to six years ago.

The oldest clip was from our wedding day.

Sitting in the front passenger seat, Hazel felt around the new dashboard. "Are you really expecting me to give up my seat for her?"

Behind the wheel, Tatum adjusted the headrest for her.

"It's just for the wedding."

Hazel asked, "And afterward?"

He chuckled.

"She's not one to take the car."

"What if she insists?"

"She's small. She can move the seat forward. I won't change the settings. This seat will always be yours."

The recording kept playing.

I didn't bother watching the rest.

At one in the morning, I set the divorce papers down on the dining table and packed up my documents and belongings.

Before heading out, I unhooked the tiny framed wedding photo attached to the car key.

On the back, Tatum's promise was engraved.

"Together, for this life."

I dumped the keychain into the trash bin and closed the front door.

My phone lit up.

It was a message from Tatum.

"Hazel's in bad shape. I won't be home tonight."

I snapped a picture of the divorce papers and texted back.

"Just as well. I'm not going back either."