Chapter 1
My husband, Samuel Harris, was a cop. He was always busy—like, seriously, always.
He never answered his calls or replied to my messages. If I asked, he'd just throw out the same old excuse—"I'm busy."
I fell down the stairs, the hospital sent out one critical alert after another, but he still found time to go watch fireworks with his childhood sweetheart, Lauren Evert.
I got held hostage by a robber, stabbed in the stomach, blood pouring out, and he was at the scene, too busy covering Lauren's eyes, softly comforting her. "Don't be scared. I'm here."
The house went up in flames, my back burned raw and bloody, and he was there, too busy snatching the doctor's first aid kit to carefully bandage the red mark on Lauren's finger with heartache in his eyes.
He was always busy, but no matter what, there was always time for Lauren.
Since he was always so busy, maybe it was time I swapped him for someone else who had time for me.
*****
There was a major multi-car crash on the highway.
When Samuel showed up, I was sprawled on the ground, helpless, with glass shards embedded in half my body, just waiting for rescue.
He glanced at me with a flicker of surprise, then he turned completely indifferent, like I was nothing but a stranger at the scene.
I'd practically blown up his phone with calls and messages, telling him I'd been in a car crash.
"Sam, I'm here." A delicate, almost whispery voice piped up from behind him.
Instantly, Samuel's indifferent look cracked and was replaced with urgent worry and soft affection.
One of Samuel's colleagues who came with him shot Lauren, who was standing there without a scratch, a wide, teasing grin.
"Lauren, the second your call came in, Sam dropped everything and bolted over," the colleague joked. "He was just reporting in to the higher-ups, but the moment your custom ringtone rang, he picked up before the first note even finished."
"Forget missions or higher-ups—nothing's more important than you, Lauren," the colleague added with a wink.
Samuel, usually so distant, gave her a warm, doting smile.
"I know Sam cares about me the most," Lauren replied sweetly.
"Samuel." I forced out, biting back the pain as I struggled to sit up. Every move tugged at my wounds, pain nearly making me see stars. I could barely get the words out.
"Why didn't you answer my calls?" My voice was so weak that it was almost lost in the chaos.
"Busy," he shot back, cold as ice.
He sounded utterly indifferent.
That one word shut me out completely.
It was the same old excuse. He couldn't even be bothered to pretend to care.
When I was hospitalized with a fever, no matter what I was going through, he was always "busy."
He never picked up my calls or replied to my messages.
But for Lauren, he'd drop everything the moment she called.
"But you always have time for her calls," I said, still not giving up, pointing at Lauren.
"She's too young to handle this kind of thing alone," he said flatly.
"She's only a year younger than me," I shot back, my voice trembling with frustration.
"Enough, Evelyn. I see her as my sister. It's my responsibility to look after her. So quit with the drama," Samuel snapped, cutting me off, his voice tight with impatience.
"Sam," Lauren said, her voice trembling nervously.
"I know Evelyn doesn't like me, but she nearly crashed right into me. She saw my car was right there, but still kept going," Lauren added, her voice shaking with fear.
As soon as Lauren said that, Samuel's expression turned stormy.
"I didn't," I blurted out instinctively.