Chapter 3 His Worthless Vows

Under the weight of his betrayal, I felt my heart grow cold, wrapped in an icy numbness. The urge to rip apart Zachary's mask of righteousness consumed me.

"Give her proper treatment? How will you treat her? Do you even realize that because of you, she's already—"

Before I could finish, a voice rang out. "Zachary! Come quickly. Something's wrong with my mom!"

It was Ella calling desperately for him. Zachary's face immediately tightened with concern. He didn't even listen to the rest of my sentence before rushing off to her mother's ward.

I couldn't stop a bitter smile from tugging at my lips as tears spilled down my cheeks. In my mind, I could see Zachary's self-righteous expression, the one he always wore when lecturing me about "fairness." And in that moment, I realized I never truly knew him.

As the medical staff called me again and again to sign the paperwork for my mother's remains, I fought to hold myself together. Somehow, I managed to gather the strength to handle her affair and prepare to have her buried beside my father.

I chose a photo of them from their younger days, both smiling so brightly. Tears streamed down my face as I looked at it. My mother had once told me that if she passed, she wanted this photo to be her memorial portrait. "That was the happiest time of my life," she had said.

My mother came from an intellectual family, but she fell in love with my father at first sight. It was a love that defied tradition, and her family had never approved of her marrying a man who had nothing. But my mother stood firm, even taking my father's surname as her own.

I traced my fingers over the photo and burst into tears. My father died young, and my mother, once a lady from a wealthy family, had to shoulder the burdens of our household alone. Although she suffered hardships in life, she felt happy because of the love shared between her and my father.

When Zachary and I got married, she repeatedly emphasized that she didn't need us to live in wealth or luxury but to just love each other, support each other, and live a peaceful life.

Zachary had sworn to her that he would treat me as my father had treated her, with unwavering love for a lifetime. But those vows felt so hollow now, shattered by the harsh reality I had witnessed.

The night my mother died, Zachary had messaged me, saying he had surgery and would be staying at the hospital. Not long after, Ella posted on Facebook with the caption, "As long as you're here, I have all the confidence in the world."

The photo she attached was of a man's back, carefully selecting flowers for her. That back looked so familiar, and it belonged to none other than Zachary, the man who was staying in the hospital overnight for surgery.

I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

From that day forward, I stopped questioning his whereabouts. He became busier as time went on and would constantly update me when he was staying overnight at the hospital. Occasionally, he would even ask about my mother's dialysis. I simply found it laughable.

If he had truly cared, how could he not know that my mother passed away some time ago?

One by one, I packed up my things, removing any trace of myself from our home. The love I once had for Zachary faded, little by little, until there was nothing left.

I didn't know how long I slept on my mother's bed, but when I woke, I saw I had several missed calls from Zachary.

When I didn't pick up, he sent a message. 'Where are you? What's the meaning of this?' Attached was a photo of the divorce papers I had left on the table.

'So, he has finally come home,' I thought.

While I was debating whether to respond, my phone rang again. His voice was laced with impatience when I answered. "What are you making a fuss about again?!"

He didn't even wait for a response before continuing, "Stop being so unreasonable, will you? I'm exhausted. Ella told me you want a divorce, and she's been feeling guilty, thinking it's because of her. Why don't you take some time to explain things to her?"

I asked, "Explain what?"

He sighed, annoyed. "Stop this, okay? I know you're worried about your mother, so I'm letting this slide."

It hit me then that Ella must have told him about the phone call, but he hadn't cared enough to dig deeper. He couldn't even imagine I was serious about the divorce.

He thought it was just another one of my emotional outbursts.

"Zachary, sign the divorce papers as soon as possible. I've already arranged for a lawyer to contact you. If you refuse, I'll take it to court."

"Margaret!" he shouted, his voice full of frustration. "Are you done yet? You're threatening me with divorce over this? It's not even a big deal!"

'Not a big deal.'

His tone felt so casual. I thought of my mother's hopeful gaze on that fateful day and how it had turned to despair. That kind of powerlessness and helpless disappointment tore at me daily, piece by piece.

My husband took the kidney meant for my mother and gave it to another woman's mother. As a daughter, I felt guilty toward the woman who had given everything to me.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I brushed them away. "Just sign the papers. There's no need to make this messier than it already is."

"Margaret, when will you stop being so selfish? I'm responsible for countless patients every day, and I have to come home and deal with this nonsense from you? I'm exhausted.

"If you want a divorce, fine. Let's do it. But I'm telling you right now, your mother won't agree to this. I've been the one treating her, and once we're divorced, I won't be helping either of you anymore!" he vented before hanging up.

For some unknown reason, I felt at ease when I saw him like this.

Actually, his relationship with Ella was suspicious, and it wasn't the first time I had noticed.