Chapter 3
Vivian glanced down, and suddenly, the world felt so quiet it was almost unreal.
It turned out that when a heart was completely chilled through, even the pain felt like it was behind a layer of glass.
She fished her phone out of her bag, her hands shaking so badly she could barely hold it. Her first call was to Sebastian.
No one picked up.
She tried again, but still, no answer.
On the third try, the call was cut off immediately.
The rain battered the glass, each sharp smack echoing like countless hands mocking her.
Vivian pressed herself against the wall and slowly crouched down, her fingertips numb with cold.
Her vision blurred and faded in and out. She managed to send a voice message to someone else in her contacts, just in time.
Her voice trembled as she spoke into the phone, "Gavin...help me."
Her phone slipped from her palm and crashed onto the floor.
As Vivian collapsed, the wedding ring in the banquet hall was just auctioned off for 6 million dollars.
Love Unto Death! What a cruel joke!
How ridiculous! She sneered.
When Vivian woke up, it was already morning.
The hospital room had a faint smell of disinfectant. The curtains were half-open, and sunlight poured in, so bright it hurt her eyes.
She stared at the ceiling for a long time before slowly turning her head.
Gavin was sitting by her bedside, hadn't even taken off his white coat, and the dark circles under his eyes made it obvious he hadn't slept all night.
He was a cardiothoracic surgeon, her college senior, and they'd known each other for years. He'd always been blunt with her.
But now, there was a complicated look in his eyes as he watched her.
"Awake?" he said.
Vivian nodded, her throat so dry it hurt. "Where's the baby?"
Gavin was silent for two long seconds.
That silence was enough for Vivian to understand everything.
She closed her eyes, her lashes trembling slightly.
She didn't cry or break down. She just stayed quiet, like she'd always expected this.
Gavin watched her, feeling a lump in his chest.
"You got here too late," he said, his voice rough. "Your health's always been fragile, and your old lung injury never really healed. Lately, you've been on those recovery meds, and when your emotions spiked, the contractions and bleeding hit all at once...Vivian, I'm sorry."
Vivian gave a soft "mm," her voice so raspy it barely sounded like her.
"I know," she said.
Gavin dreaded seeing her like this.
He'd rather she cried, smashed things, or called Sebastian a bastard a hundred times—anything was better than her lying there, empty, like she'd lost her soul.
He handed her a glass of water, his voice tight with anger. "Where's Sebastian?"
Vivian's fingers hesitated for a moment before she took the glass. "I don't know," she replied.
"You don't know?" Gavin snorted, his anger barely contained. "You had a miscarriage, spent the whole night in the hospital, fighting for your life until two in the morning, and not once did he show up as your husband. And you're telling me you don't know where he is?"
Vivian took a sip of water, her lips almost ghostly pale.
"He's busy," she said.
As soon as she said that, Gavin nearly crushed the medical chart in his hand.
"Vivian, are you out of your mind?" Gavin hissed, keeping his voice low. "You took the hit for him in that fire three years ago. No one knows how messed up your lungs are better than you do. You've been married to him for three years, looking after his grandma, cleaning up the Shaw family's messes, and last night you almost died in the hospital. And you're telling me you have no clue who he spent the night with?"
Vivian finally looked up at him.
"Gavin," she said softly, cutting him off. "Please, stop."
Gavin felt his throat tighten.
He saw that her eyes held no tears, only a kind of exhaustion so deep it looked like she'd finally run out of strength, like a fish that couldn't swim anymore, just sinking quietly to the bottom.
"...Fine," he said after a moment, his voice still icy. "Forget him. I'm talking about you. Divorce him. You have to. No excuses."
Vivian didn't answer.
Gavin stared at her. "Are you still holding on?"
She stayed quiet for a long time, then managed a weak smile.
"It's not that I'm still holding on," she said softly.
"It's that I finally can let go," he added.
Gavin froze, caught off guard.
Vivian set the glass back on the nightstand, then slowly turned away, her back to him and the sunlight.
"Help me draft a divorce agreement," she said softly.
"This time, I'm letting him go," she added.
The hospital room was so quiet, all you could hear was the steady beeping of the monitor.
Gavin watched her frail figure, and for once, he couldn't find a single word to say.
He'd known her for years, and he knew that while she seemed gentle on the outside, her backbone was tougher than anyone's.
Back in college, she once spent seventy-two hours straight piecing together a porcelain bowl—her hands shook so badly she could barely hold the tweezers, but she wouldn't let anyone else help.
Her professor called her hard-headed, but she just smiled and said, "The more hands touch something that's broken, the more the cracks get lost, and it never fits back together right."
She'd spent her whole life piecing broken things back together.
But after all that, the most shattered thing was herself.
After Gavin left, the hospital room was quiet once more.
Vivian lay there for a bit, then reached for her phone.
Her phone was blowing up with missed calls, mostly from strangers and reporters. Social media was on fire with her name.
[Mrs. Shaw's pregnancy test report causes chaos at charity night]
[Sebastian's old flame returns to town]
[Wife vs mistress showdown in the Shaw family]