Chapter 3

He crouched beside me and examined the cut on my forehead, frowning slightly.

“Why can't you be more careful?”

There was a note of blame in his voice, as though the whole thing had been my fault.

“Can't you just behave yourself for once? I've already got enough to deal with because of Aria. I don't need you making things harder.”

I stared at him.

Whatever love I'd still been holding on to died right then.

Last night, I'd developed a low fever. Every bone in my body ached, and I lay curled beneath the covers, shivering uncontrollably.

Shane came in and felt my forehead.

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes. But whatever hesitation he'd felt quickly disappeared.

He took out his phone and showed me a video.

Aria was lying in a hospital bed, her face deathly pale. She was coughing so violently, with traces of blood around her mouth.

“Look at her.”

Shane's voice came from above me, strained with emotion.

“Every time she coughs, it kills me to watch. Wendy, we have to save her.”

Somehow, he'd made his suffering my responsibility.

He'd turned our marriage into a sacrifice.

And I was the one being sacrificed.

This morning, he brought me a bowl of chicken soup and forced me to drink every last drop.

“You need to build up your strength.”

He gently wiped the grease from the corner of my mouth, his voice so tender it was almost cruel.

“That way, you'll last longer. Aria's going to need you.”

I stared at his face, just inches from mine.

My stomach churned, and I nearly threw up.

That afternoon, he received a phone call.

His voice immediately softened, though I could hear the concern in it.

“You're getting discharged tomorrow? Okay. Come stay here so I can take care of you. Don't worry. I've got everything arranged.”

When he hung up, he turned to me.

“Aria's getting discharged tomorrow. She's moving in with us.”

I froze.

It felt as though all the blood in my body had turned to ice.

“This is our home...” I whispered, my voice trembling.

He came over and cupped my face, gently brushing his thumb across my cheek.

His touch was soft, but his eyes were cold.

“Wendy, be a good girl.”

He looked straight into my eyes, speaking slowly and deliberately.

“Don't make things difficult for me. Right now, the best thing you can do is stay quiet and out of the way.”

So that was all I was good for now.

Keeping his first love alive, even if it killed me.

He'd taken my phone, cutting off my last connection to the outside world.

The silence was unbearable.

All I could hear was the sound of my own heart breaking.

And then, as he left, the unmistakable click of the lock.

—

The following afternoon, I heard the door unlock.

I was propped up against the headboard, too numb to react.

Shane came in carrying someone in his arms.

She was wrapped snugly in a blanket, with only her pale, delicate face visible.

He held her as carefully as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

The concern and tenderness in his eyes were things I hadn't seen in a long time.

He carried her straight into the guest bedroom next to ours.

“We're home, Aria,” he murmured. “From now on, I'll be right here with you every day.”

My broken fingers still throbbed, a constant reminder of how ridiculous this whole situation was.

He didn't even glance my way.

Only after getting Aria settled did Shane return to our bedroom.

He noticed the untouched food on the table and frowned.

“Why haven't you eaten?” he asked impatiently. “What are you going to do if your health gets even worse?”

I said nothing.

I just looked at him.

My stare seemed to make him uncomfortable. When he spoke again, his tone softened slightly.

“Aria's very weak. She needs plenty of rest, so don't bother her unless it's necessary.”

He paused before adding, “If you need anything, let me know.”

Then he turned and went back to the guest room.

He didn't close the door all the way.

I could hear him gently coaxing Aria to take her medicine, asking whether she was too hot or too cold.

All that affection he'd once reserved for me now belonged to another woman.

And I was little more than a ghost, wandering through the house I'd once called home.

My own home had become my prison.

Sometimes, I'd run into Aria in the hallway.

She'd be wearing silk pajamas, leaning weakly against the doorframe.

Whenever she saw me, she'd give a small nod and greet me politely.

“Hi, Wendy.”

But her eyes would drift over my bandaged hand, then my pale face, before settling on Shane as he hurried toward her.

“Shane, I'm feeling a little dizzy...” she'd say in a sweet, needy voice.

He'd immediately rush over and steady her, his face filled with concern.

Then he'd shoot me an irritated look, as if I were somehow responsible for making her dizzy.