CHAPTER 5

The day of Clara’s clinic grand opening arrived.

It was also *Day 7* of my countdown. One week left.

The event was held at a luxury convention center in the heart of the financial district. Hundreds of high-profile guests, medical professionals, and corporate donors filled the grand ballroom.

Julian had insisted I attend. He bought me a beige gown that Clara had personally selected—a high-collared, long-sleeved dress that covered every inch of skin from my neck to my ankles. It looked like a modest uniform rather than a party dress.

When I looked in the mirror before leaving, I smiled bitterly. Julian claimed Clara wanted me to 'expose' myself to overcome my insecurities, yet when it came to a public event where his high-society friends were present, he had Clara select a dress that completely concealed my leg and scars.

He was ashamed of my physical damage in front of his peers.

When we arrived at the venue, Clara was glowing. She wore a stunning white satin dress with a daring side slit, looking like the epitome of grace and success.

"Julian! Nora! You made it!" Clara greeted us, holding a glass of champagne. She swept her gaze over my beige gown and gave a satisfied smile. "Nora, the dress fits you so well! Very conservative and safe."

"Thank you, Clara," I said neutrally.

As the evening progressed, the noise, the flashing cameras from journalists, and the crowded room began to weigh heavily on me. The nerve pain in my leg began to flare up violently due to the hours of standing.

I excused myself and walked out onto the peaceful outdoor terrace to get some fresh air. The cool evening breeze hit my face, helping me regulate my breathing.

Suddenly, the heavy glass doors of the terrace pushed open. Clara stepped out, holding two glasses of wine.

"Taking a breather, Nora?" Clara asked, walking over to the marble railing beside me.

"Just getting some fresh air," I replied smoothly, looking out over the city lights.

Clara took a sip of her wine, her friendly demeanor instantly dropping, replaced by a cold, calculating stare.

"You know, Nora," Clara said softly, her voice dropping all pretense. "You really should stop holding onto Julian. It’s getting pathetic."

I turned my head slowly to look at her. "What did you say?"

Clara smirked, swirling her glass. "Julian doesn't love you. He never did. He married you because he felt guilty that you got crippled saving his life. Every time he massages your leg, every time he buys you medicine, he isn't thinking about how much he cares for you. He's paying off a debt. I’m a psychologist, Nora. I read his mind better than anyone. And right now, you are nothing but an anchor weighing down his life."

I looked at Clara, my expression completely unchanged. A month ago, those words would have shattered my heart into a thousand pieces. But tonight, they felt like nothing.

"If he feels that way, Clara, that is between Julian and me," I said quietly.

Clara’s eyes flashed with annoyance at my lack of reaction. "He loves ME, Nora. He always has. He only agrees to your little 'therapies' because I tell him to. If I tell him to leave you alone, he does. If I tell him to make you wear shorts, he does. He is completely under my control."

Before I could answer, a sudden, violent wave of panic washed over my chest.

It wasn't because of Clara’s words—it was physical. My throat suddenly constricted tightly. The atmospheric shift, combined with my intense nerve pain and the sudden drop in temperature, triggered a severe, acute somatic asthma attack.

I gasped for air, but no oxygen reached my lungs. My vision flickered with black spots. I clutched the marble terrace railing, my knees buckling underneath me.

"Clara..." I gasped, struggling to speak. "My... my inhaler... in my purse..."

Clara stood back, her eyes narrowing as she watched me struggle to breathe. Instead of helping or getting my bag, she took a slow step backward toward the glass doors.

Julian suddenly stepped out onto the terrace, looking for us. "Clara? Nora? The presentation is about to—"

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me collapsed against the railing, clutching my chest and gasping violently for air.

"Nora!" Julian rushed forward, horror in his eyes. He reached out to grab me. "What’s happening?!"

"Julian..." I gasped, my face pale, tears streaming down my cheeks as I fought for oxygen. "Can't... breathe..."

"Julian, wait!" Clara stepped in front of him, grabbing his arm firmly.

Julian looked at Clara in confusion. "Clara, she's suffocating! Where is her inhaler?!"

"Julian, listen to me as her therapist!" Clara commanded, her voice ringing with professional authority. "This is a classical hyperventilation panic response! If you rush to give her medication or hold her right now, you are enabling her panic disorder! She needs to regulate her own breathing! Tell her to follow the clinical breathing protocol!"

Julian looked torn. He looked down at me—at my blue lips, my frantic eyes, my body shaking as I fought for a single breath of air—and then he looked at Clara.

"Clara, she looks like she's dying!" Julian yelled, his voice shaking.

"Trust the process, Julian!" Clara urged, holding his arm tightly. "If you break protocol now, all her therapeutic progress is lost! Command her to breathe!"

Julian swallowed hard. He took a step back from me.

"Nora..." Julian called out, his voice trembling, but he made no move to touch me or help me. "Listen to Clara. Inhale for four seconds. Exhale for four seconds. Control your breathing, Nora! You have to do it yourself!"

I lay on the cold stone floor of the terrace, looking up at my husband.

He was standing two feet away from me. He watched me suffocating, watched me clawing at my own throat for air, and instead of reaching out a hand to save me, he stood there reciting a four-second breathing count because Clara told him to.

In that horrific, breathless moment, the final thread of affection I held for Julian broke completely.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Using every ounce of residual strength left in my body, I reached into my coat pocket—where I had kept a spare emergency inhaler all along—pulled it out, and pressed it into my mouth.

*Puff.*

The medicine hit my lungs. I took a violent, ragged gasp of air, oxygen finally flooding back into my system.

I lay on the cold ground for a minute, my chest heaving, until my breathing stabilized.

Julian rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside me, his hands shaking as he reached for my shoulders. "Nora! Oh God, Nora, are you okay?! You breathed! Clara was right, you managed to—"

"Don't touch me," I said.

My voice wasn't loud. It wasn't angry. It was deathly, terrifyingly cold.

Julian froze, his hands hovering in mid-air. "Nora?"

I pushed myself up off the ground, standing on my own two feet. I brushed off my beige dress. I looked down at Julian, who was still kneeling on the floor, and then at Clara, who was watching me with a mixture of shock and frustration.

"We're getting a divorce, Julian," I said, my voice cutting through the evening air like a razor blade.

Julian’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief. He stood up rapidly. "What?! Nora, don't be ridiculous! You had a panic attack, you're not thinking clearly—"

"I have never been clearer in my entire life," I said, looking him dead in the eye. "I want a divorce."

"No!" Julian snapped, his shock turning into absolute refusal. "I will NEVER sign divorce papers, Nora! You saved my life! You are my responsibility! You cannot survive out there without me, and I will not let you destroy yourself!"

I stared at him, a faint, sad smile touching my lips.

"You don't get to choose anymore, Julian," I murmured softly.

I turned around and walked away, my limp steady, my head held high, leaving Julian and Clara standing on the empty terrace.

I got into a taxi, drove straight back to the penthouse, and opened my suitcase.

I packed my last set of clothes. I placed the keys to the penthouse on the kitchen counter alongside a signed divorce petition.

Then I looked at my phone screen one last time.

*Flight status: Confirmed.*

Departure: Tomorrow morning, 8:00 AM.

Countdown: 0 days.