Chapter 3
The ER doctor said if I'd gotten to the operating room any later, or lost just a bit more blood, I might not have made it.
Before they wheeled me into the OR, a nurse held up my phone and asked, "Where's your family? Can you reach your husband?"
I stared at Samuel's name in my contacts.
The first call went unanswered.
The second call, he hung up.
On the third try, he finally picked up.
In the background, I could hear Claire crying.
"What is it?" Samuel asked.
The pain was so bad my teeth were chattering.
"Samuel, I need surgery," I managed to say.
There was a two-second pause on the other end.
"She's having complications with her pregnancy. I can't leave right now," he said.
I gripped the sheets so tight it hurt.
"The doctor said they might need a family member to sign," I managed to say.
"Just get someone else to sign," Samuel said coldly.
The nurses nearby froze, speechless.
I froze too.
Six years ago, when I had appendicitis, he was so anxious outside the OR that he signed the consent form wrong three times.
Now, my spleen was bleeding.
But he asked me to find someone else.
I closed my eyes. "Alright."
The surgery took more than two hours.
When I woke up, it was already the next afternoon.
Lily Lane, my friend, was the only one in the room.
Her eyes were swollen from crying, and as soon as she saw me open my eyes, tears started falling again.
"Natalie, what are you still holding on for?" she choked out.
My throat was so dry that it hurt.
"I used to want something," I said. "But not anymore."
On the third day of my hospital stay, Alicia showed up.
She put some supplements on the nightstand and went straight to the point. "Claire's baby is fine, so just drop it. She didn't do it on purpose. If you make a fuss, it'll just make everyone look bad.
"Claire can't take any more stress right now, so I'm taking her to stay at my place for a while.
"And since Sam's still not comfortable living with you after his amnesia, he'll stay with me too for now."
I looked at her.
"Alicia, I almost died," I said.
Alicia's face stiffened for a second. "Didn't the doctor say you're fine now?"
I suddenly had nothing left to say.
Turned out, as long as I didn't die, they could just pretend nothing happened.
On the seventh day of my hospital stay, Samuel finally showed up.
He stood at the door, holding a fruit basket, and just stared at me for a few seconds.
"I heard you got hurt pretty bad," he said.
"Yeah," I replied.
"Claire didn't mean for it to happen. She was in pain, and in the chaos, she just grabbed whatever was closest."
So he came all this way just to defend her.
"Is the baby okay?" I asked.
He looked visibly relieved.
"The baby's fine," he said.
"That's good."
Samuel frowned. "Why have you been acting so strange lately?"
I stared at the IV needle in the back of my hand. "Maybe I knocked something loose in my head."
"Natalie, I know you're hurt, but don't get all passive-aggressive. She was terrified too," he said.
I looked up at him. "What if I'd died that day?"
His expression changed.
"Don't talk about dying like that," he said.
The room was silent for a long time.
I nodded. "Got it."
Before he left, he stood at the door and said, "The doctor said I might start getting my memory back soon. When you're better, we'll talk."
I stared out the window, not turning around. "Okay."
Three months to the day, Samuel's memory "came back."
He never gave me a heads-up.
That day, he bought my favorite cake and picked out a bunch of white roses, just like he always did after making me mad, back when we first got married. He thought he'd surprise me.
But the locks had already been changed.
A stranger opened the door, holding a kid in his arms.
"Who are you looking for?" the man asked.
Samuel stood there, his face draining of color.
"Where's Natalie?" he asked.
The man paused for a second. "The previous owner? She moved out ages ago."
Samuel blew up my phone, calling again and again.
I let the first call ring out. The second, too.
It wasn't until the boat gave a gentle jolt and the dock started slipping away that I finally answered.
The wind was howling on his end.
For the first time, his voice was trembling like never before. "Natalie, what about our house?"
I watched the dock on the shore grow smaller and smaller.
"I sold it," I said.
"You sold it?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"And what about you?"
A ship's horn sounded in the distance.
I held the phone, silent for a couple of seconds.
"I've left too," I said.
After hanging up, I turned off my phone.
The ship had left the shore.
The dock receded into the distance, until it was just a faint line in the fog.
The wind whipped across the deck.
My left hand still wasn't fully healed, and the wind sent a dull ache through my bones.
Lily stepped out of the cabin and gently draped her coat over my shoulders.
"The doctor told you to stay out of the wind. Did you even listen to a word he said?" Lily said.
I smiled, "Just one last look."
"What's there to see?" She followed my gaze toward the shore. "Are you going to miss it?"
I was silent for a moment.
I shook my head. "No."
Lily didn't ask any more questions.
After the ship docked, we headed to the apartment we'd rented in advance.
It wasn't big, just two bedrooms and a living room.
Open the window, and the ocean was right there.
Lily helped me unpack while I sat on the couch and turned my phone back on.
The screen was instantly flooded with missed calls: seventy-three from Samuel, twenty-six from Alicia, and a few from unknown numbers.
I didn't open a single one.
At the top was a message from Samuel, sent ten minutes ago. [Natalie, where are you?]
The second message: [I went to the real estate agent. The house really was sold.]
The third message came after a long pause. [Why?]
I stared at those last word, and honestly, it made me want to laugh.
Back when I almost died in the hospital, he never asked why.
When I woke up alone in that hospital room, he never asked why.
But now, just because the house was gone, he suddenly remembered to ask me why.
My phone rang again.
It was my lawyer. "Ms. Wynn, the divorce papers have been delivered to Mr. Grant."
"Got it," I replied.
"Mr. Grant is refusing to sign."
"Then sue him."
The lawyer hesitated for a moment. "Are you sure about this?"
"I'm sure."
Right after I hung up, Samuel called again.
I stared at the screen, letting it flash for ages.
In the end, I picked up.
On the other end, his breathing was ragged, almost desperate.
"You really want a divorce?" Samuel's voice was shaky.
"Yeah," I said.
He went quiet, dead silent.
It took him several seconds before he finally spoke.
"Is it all because of Claire?" he asked.
I sank into the couch, my eyes lingering on the fading bruise on my left wrist.
"What do you think?" I shot back.
"I can explain about the baby," he said.
"No need."
"Why not?"
His voice suddenly shot up, raw and loud. "Natalie, this is our marriage."
I froze for a second.
Then I let out a laugh, cold and sharp. "So you do remember we're married."
He fell silent again.
I said, "Where was our marriage when you acted like I was a stranger?
"Where was our marriage when you brought a pregnant Claire into our home?
"Where was our marriage when I was on the operating table and you told me to find someone else?"
I paused, letting it sink in. "Tell me, where was our marriage then?"