Chapter 1

My husband, Edward Pierce called to check in, as I got into a car accident.

"Melanie's getting married today. I have to go," he said.

I tried to hold back the pain in my stomach, my voice shaky. "Can you come with me to the hospital first? I just got rear-ended, my car hit—"

Edward cut me off before I could finish, sounding annoyed. "Alright, I promised I'd be there for the family, and I'm keeping my word.

"Only one last look at her. She's getting married anyway. What are you so afraid of? You don't need to pull these little tricks to keep me around."

And with that, he hung up on me.

When I was carried into the hospital, blood was pooling beneath me.

For the miscarriage surgery, the hospital needed a family member to sign the consent form. I called Edward seventeen times, but he didn't answer any of them.

On my phone, Edward, who never posts anything, had updated his feed for the first time.

It read: [Not being with you is the biggest regret of my life, but all I want is for you to be happy.]

In the photo, Melanie Summers wore a wedding dress and leaned against him with a blissful smile. They looked like the real newlyweds.

After the surgery, I took a moment to compose myself, then had someone send the divorce agreement I'd signed four years ago to the courthouse.

*****

During my week in the hospital, Edward never showed up. But every day, he sent me updates about where he was and what he was doing.

On the first day, he was attending Melanie's wedding. The next day, he was busy helping Melanie deal with her relatives.

I was exhausted and didn't reply to a single one.

But Edward thought I was mad at him, so for once, he actually called me. "Come on, don't be upset. This is really the last time I'll see her."

Halfway through, his voice wavered with disappointment. "She's married now. I only wanted to see if her husband is treating her right. I'll be back tomorrow. My assistant Lucas told me you're in the hospital. I'll come pick you up and take you home."

Before I could say anything, Edward hung up.

But the next day, when evening came, he still didn't show up.

Despite the pain in my stomach, I had to check myself out of the hospital on my own.

When I got home, Edward was bustling around in the kitchen, wearing an apron.

He paused when he saw me, and then quickly tried to explain himself, "I got back minutes ago. I was about to come pick you up. Why didn't you wait for me?"

I glanced at the beef stew he had already packed into the thermos, and my heart sank little by little.

I couldn't stand celery in my stew. I never touched beef stew with celery. Melanie was the only one who loved it that way.

To get the meat so tender that it was falling apart, he must have started cooking around noon.

I stared at him for a couple of seconds, trying to push down the sting rising in my chest. "It's fine," I said.

When I didn't ask any questions, he let out a sigh of relief and hurried out, moving much faster than usual.

"One of my clients is sick, so I thought I'd bring some food over and talk business," he said and shut the door behind him.

Three minutes later, I slipped out after him.

Edward didn't take the car. He headed to a hotel a short walk from the villa.

When I saw who was standing at the hotel entrance, my heart clenched. It felt like someone was squeezing it tight from the inside.

It was Melanie, Edward's mistress from four years ago. The woman he threw away his pride for. The one he got down on his knees and begged me to divorce him so he could marry.

Melanie was standing next to a man I'd never seen before. It had to be her new husband.

Edward passed the thermos to her, careful not to get too close, but I could see he was really torn up inside, struggling to let go.

Melanie flashed him a smile and said "thanks," then headed into the hotel with her husband.

*****

That night, Edward came home completely wasted. His eyes were shut tight, and he kept whispering, "Mel..."

Even though Melanie was married now, he still couldn't get over her.

I couldn't help but feel how bitterly ironic it all was. He once swore off alcohol for my sake, but now he went out drinking every other week, losing himself in bars.

My blood ran cold. I thought my heart, already shattered beyond repair, couldn't possibly ache anymore. But somehow, the pain still managed to cut me to pieces all over again.

Silently, I packed up my things, taking a deep breath, trying to ease the ache inside me.

Only two more weeks, and I'd get the divorce certificate.