Chapter 3
Charles, the husband who'd been telling me he was swamped lately, stood quietly behind me, holding a lollipop like he was about to coax a kid.
He must've overheard the doctor, and the shock in his eyes looked genuine.
"When did you have surgery?" he asked.
Now wasn't the time to catch up, so I flashed my registration slip.
"It's my turn," I said.
Charles looked like he wanted to say something, but in the end, he just walked out.
I heard the girl tease him, "Do you know her?"
He hummed softly and added, "She's my wife."
Nathan had probably never witnessed this kind of drama before. His expression was absolutely priceless.
As he examined me, he kept sneaking glances at my face.
I walked right in on my husband bringing another woman to the doctor.
To make matters worse, it was for the exact same procedure. And when it was my turn, I faced it alone.
Seeing his face turn bright red, I couldn't help but laugh. "Guess you really haven't seen much drama, huh? Look at you, making a scene over nothing."
Nathan gave me a look that was equal parts grievance and irritation, not a hint of the smugness I expected.
He couldn't help himself, covering his eyes with his hand. After a long pause, he finally said, "You don't understand. Seeing you unhappy hurts more than dying."
I froze for a second, then drawled, "Which jerk was it that had to break up with me? Who are you putting on this act for now?"
He fell silent.
I grabbed my test results and didn't even hesitate. I just turned and walked out.
Seriously, who needed an ex's remorse?
*****
To my surprise, Charles was still waiting for me outside the door.
He must've heard everything earlier, but honestly, with our divorce just around the corner, I didn't owe him any explanations.
He'd taken off his suit jacket and was holding it in his hand, and there was a faint smell of smoke lingering on him.
It was obvious he'd just had a cigarette.
Charles wasn't really a smoker. He only ever reached for one when something was seriously bothering him.
Guess the girl being sick really got to him.
He looked pretty down when he saw me.
"When did this happen?" he asked.
I actually needed to talk to him, too, so I kept my cool and answered, "Two months ago, while you were on a business trip."
"This is huge. Why didn't you..." he started, but trailed off.
But then something seemed to click, and he stopped himself.
Yeah, I did tell him. I called him, sobbing, and said, "My stomach hurts so bad. The doctor said it's gallstones blocking my bile duct, and I need surgery ASAP. Charles, I'm really scared..."
And what did he say back then?
He said, "You're in pain, so you can't have surgery now, right? We'll talk when I get back. I'm flying to Daryabar now."
Then he hung up without a second thought.
I didn't get so much as a word from him, let alone any comfort.
That night, I just sat on my hospital bed, crying my eyes out all night long.
That was when Nathan, working the night shift, noticed me.
He stood at the doorway, watching me for a while before finally sauntering over.
"Don't be scared. My surgeries are way better than the doctor you booked with. Why not switch to me?" he offered.
When I just kept crying and ignored him, he started to get flustered. "Seriously, everyone says I'm the best. Go check the internet if you don't believe me. Please, stop crying, okay?"
Thinking about it, I touched my scar. Nathan could be a real pain sometimes, but when it came to surgery, he was actually pretty damn good.
Noticing I was lost in thought, Charles gently squeezed my hand.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know," he said softly.
I shot him a look.
He had let me down more times than I could count. What was the point of pretending to care now?
"Honestly, you've been a pretty lousy husband," I told him.
After a beat, I couldn't help but add, "If that's the case, why bother getting married at all?"
He pinched his brow and could only repeat, "I'm sorry. I thought I knew what was best."
I pointed at that girl over there. "Save the apologies. I've already drafted the divorce agreement.
"The lawyer's still working on the terms, but I should be able to send it to you tomorrow. Don't keep her waiting."
He grabbed my hand, looking sincere. "She's just my friend's little sister. Tomorrow's Thanksgiving dinner. We can talk it over then."
That was when I remembered. The Newman family always had Thanksgiving dinner together. If I didn't show up, with Charles's mother, Adele Newman's temper, she'd probably come looking for me herself.
I nodded. "I'll be there."
With that, I waved goodbye and walked away.