Chapter 1
I was in the ICU, clinging to life, while my husband, Alaric, was across town, holding his love Vivian's hand as she got an IV for nothing more than a "little chill."
Ten years. Ten years of love, loyalty, and sacrifice—all for a man who couldn't even be bothered to choose me when it mattered.
Alaric, I was done waiting.
But were you ready to lose me for good?
******
When I got my third critical condition notice, my husband Alaric was with Vivian, keeping her company while she got an IV.
Vivian had caught a chill two days ago and was running a low fever. She needed "immediate, urgent" attention.
Meanwhile, his actual wife—me, Jocelyn—was stuck in a VIP hospital room, lungs fighting against a ventilator just to keep me alive.
My attending doctor, with a voice full of sympathy and helplessness, told me my organs were failing.
If we couldn't find a suitable kidney donor, and if my husband kept going MIA like this, I might not make it through the month.
Wasn't it ironic?
Honestly, I didn't even care anymore.
Three years of marriage to Alaric Goodwin. Three years of playing the perfect corporate wife—charming his family, hosting his events, and scrubbing wine spills and other women's lipstick off his shirts.
I checked every box so flawlessly that everyone called him lucky.
Everyone but Alaric himself.
In his phone, Vivian was saved as "Baby." I was just "Jocelyn"—full name, like a business contact.
He would get a cutesy call from Vivian in the middle of the night and rush out immediately, leaving me alone with the dinner he'd promised he'd be home for.
And now, thanks to him, I was here, fighting for my life.
A month ago, Vivian called, saying she was locked inside her villa out in the suburbs and was scared.
Alaric drove through a raging storm to play the hero and save her, and didn't come home the whole night.
The next morning, I collapsed at our front door, fever burning through me. It was his sister, Serena—who'd never spared me a kind word—who happened to stop by and found me half-dead on the floor. She was the one who took me to the hospital.
Alaric only bothered to visit me a couple of times.
The first time, he frowned down at me like I was some inconvenience. "Jocelyn, what's wrong with you? You're a grown woman. Can't you take care of yourself?"
The second time, he barely stayed long enough to sign some forms. "Where do I sign? Hurry up, I need to pick Vivian up from the airport."
The third time—today—he finally showed up again.
He walked in, carrying the crisp scent of Dior Sauvage, with a faint trace of that perfume Vivian always wore lingering around him.
He stood by my bedside, towering over me, his eyes void of any real concern—just that same perfunctory indifference.
"The doctor said you're not doing well?" he asked, as if he were just commenting on the weather.
I tried to smile, but my body was too weak to even twitch.
"Mm," I whispered. "Might be dying soon."
He paused for a moment and then frowned, "Don't talk like that. The bills are covered. If you need anything, tell the nurse."
How generous.
Money was always his solution—clean, efficient, and completely empty.
Just then, his phone rang.
His voice softened instantly, that tender tone I'd never gotten. "Vivian? What's wrong? Still feeling sick? Did the IV hurt? Hey, don't cry—I'm coming."
He didn't even bother to say goodbye to me. Still on the phone, he hurried out of the room.
The door closed softly behind him, cutting off the sound of his gentle voice—the voice that wasn't meant for me.
The sunlight filtered in through the window, gentle and warm.
I turned my head just enough to see the words on the table—my ICU status sheet, "CODE STATUS: DNR" typed bold above the doctor's hurried signature.
And suddenly, it almost made me laugh.
I had loved Alaric for ten years.
From the reckless boy he'd been to the ruthless businessman he'd become.
I'd given him everything—my youth, my pride, my whole damn life.
And I'd lost.
Lost so badly that I was about to lose my last breath too.
It was not that bad.
I let my eyes drift shut, feeling the last of my strength slip away.
Maybe it was really good.
Alaric, starting today... I was done waiting.
Not for your love. Not even for your goodbye.
I'd just let this lonely love and this dying body fade away together.