Chapter 1

We were supposed to go to my husband Ethan Bell's parents' home that day. He left early in the morning and didn't call until noon.

"Something came up. I booked you an afternoon flight. You'll have to go alone," he said.

My chest tightened. "Ethan, you know I'm scared of heights."

So I had never flown by myself.

Before I could finish, he hung up.

The next second, I was scrolling through my feed and saw a post from an intern in his department.

She wrote: [Random urge to drive home. Good thing he's always around to give me a lift.]

The photo showed Ethan's profile. No mistaking it.

I crumpled the paper in my hand. The one that said severe depression.

After a long while, I stood up. I took our wedding photo off the wall. Then I just kept cutting Ethan's face, over and over, until it was all torn up.

I was done.

Everything about Ethan, I didn't want any of it anymore.

*****

I was so anxious that I started biting my nails, calling Ethan over and over again.

No one picked up, and then the call just dropped. Still not ready to give up, I tried video calling him.

Finally, someone answered, but instead of Ethan, Lucy Young's smiling face, bright and youthful, appeared on the screen.

She had been training under Ethan for a year, and she was also from our hometown.

"Hey, Lila, Ethan's driving right now, so he can't take the call. Is something urgent?" She asked.

She acted like she was part of the family. Then, as if something just crossed her mind, she put a hand over her mouth in a dramatic way.

"Oh, come on, Lila, you're not still upset with Ethan over that little cupcake thing from last time, are you?" she teased.

Right then, I heard Ethan in the background let out an impatient "tsk."

I flinched, and before I could stop it, the memory pulled me right back.

Back then, I had just come out of surgery, and my blood sugar had crashed. I went looking for the cupcake I had saved for myself, but it was gone.

Ethan just shrugged like it was nothing and said, "I gave it to Lucy."

"It was her first time in the OR, and she was exhausted. I thought she needed something sweet to feel better," he added.

All that frustration I'd been bottling up finally boiled over. I couldn't hold it in anymore.

I grabbed the nearest medical chart and threw it at him. I yelled, my voice hoarse and breaking, "What about me?

"I was on my feet for four hours straight. I didn't even get a sip of water. And that cupcake? I waited in line for an hour yesterday just to buy it."

I couldn't stand the way Ethan was looking at me, like I was some crazy person. So I started grabbing whatever I could reach and hurled it at him.

It wasn't until Lucy rushed in to protect him and got hit with the water cup I threw that he finally dropped that cold, indifferent act and actually reacted like a real person.

He immediately pulled the crying Lucy into his arms, his face full of tenderness for her, then turned to me, his own wife, his eyes blazing with fury.

"Lila, it was just a cupcake. How can you be so selfish?" he snapped.

After that, he left with Lucy, leaving me standing there, awkward, alone, while people around me snickered and stared.

*****

That afternoon, I was diagnosed with severe depression.

The next day, I put in a transfer request. I went from being the youngest chief surgeon in cardiothoracic surgery to some nobody stuck twiddling their thumbs in the logistics department.

But in Ethan's eyes, I was being petty. I couldn't stand Lucy, who was just an intern, so I threw my own career away.

On the video call, Lucy turned the camera toward Ethan, who was sitting in the driver's seat, and pouted like she was upset.

"Ethan, Lila looks like she's about to cry. Why don't you just talk to her yourself? Please don't let me get caught in the crossfire again," she whined.

Ethan furrowed his brow and shot a quick glance at the screen.

"What's with all the drama now? I told you not to call when I'm driving," he snapped.

I wasn't about to let it go. I needed to get to the bottom of it.

"Ethan, you know I'm terrified of heights. Why did you book me a flight? Aren't you worried I might just refuse to go?" I pressed.

He got even more impatient. "It's only a 30-minute flight. What's there to freak out about? Didn't you fly with me back in college when we traveled?"

"Anyway, if you're not going to my parents' home, where else would you even go?" he said.

"Your parents are..." He cut off mid-sentence, realized he'd let something slip, but just brushed it off.

"I'm driving, so quit calling me. You're not a kid. Don't let Lucy see you making a fool of yourself," he said.

"Make sure you get to the airport by two. Don't miss your flight," he added.

The screen went dark, and all I could see was my own face staring back at me, pale, lifeless.

Tears rolled down my cheeks. I lowered my head and stared at the crumpled diagnosis in my hand. Severe depression.

The doctor said I needed company. I needed love. And I needed to stay away from whatever was triggering me.

But the very trigger I needed to escape from was my husband.

I tried to tell Ethan about my illness. Every time, he just locked me out of his study.

No matter how hard I cried or banged on the door, he acted like I wasn't even there.

My eyes locked onto the huge wedding photo hanging on the living room wall.

My head was heavy and throbbed with a dull ache. I got up, grabbed the fruit knife from the table, and stumbled toward it.

I kept slashing wildly at Ethan's face in the photo. Over and over. Each cut made me lose it a little more.

I completely fell apart, sobbing, screaming, "Why do you never listen to me? Why can't you see how much I'm hurting? Why do you always have to say things that cut so deep?"

I kept slashing at his face in the picture until there was nothing left but a torn-up mess. When I finally stopped, I was completely drained.

I tossed the knife aside and called my therapist, Lana Reed.

"Lana, can I stay with you for a few days?" I asked. "I'm scared I won't be able to get through this on my own."