Chapter 1

At three in the morning, anaphylactic shock hit me like a freight train. My throat clamped shut. I gasped for air, clutching my husband’s arm beside me.

Austin shoved me away with an irritated grunt.

"What are you screaming about in the middle of the night? Don’t you know I have a major meeting tomorrow?"

He turned over, pulled the duvet over his head, and within seconds, his heavy snores filled the room again.

Clinging to my fading consciousness, I grabbed my phone and called an Uber to the ER.

The ER doctor looked at my vitals and shook his head. "Ten more minutes, and your airway would have closed completely. You wouldn't have made it."

Later, sitting in the fluorescent-lit ER waiting lounge with an IV needle taped to the back of my hand, I spotted someone familiar.

My husband. The man who was supposedly fast asleep in our bed.

Austin was holding a young woman’s hand with both of his, his brows tightly knitted, his eyes overflowing with heartbreak.

"How could you be so careless? Why didn't you call me the second you scratched yourself?"

The woman leaned softly against his shoulder. Her finger bore nothing more than a tiny red scratch—barely visible to the naked eye.

I had almost died suffocating at home, and he thought I was too noisy.

Yet here he was, treating a microscopic paper cut like a five-alarm emergency.

As the two of them walked past me in a sweet, tender embrace, I watched them quietly.

Our nine-year marriage was officially over.

Ten minutes later, Austin walked back down the hallway, his arm wrapped around the same woman.

His voice carried a tenderness I hadn't heard in years.

"I’m staying the night with you. Don’t be scared, okay? I’m right here."

She let out a cute, delicate whimper and nestled her head deeper into his chest.

The IV fluid dripped rhythmically into the back of my bruised hand.

They walked toward me, whispering intimately like newlyweds who had just walked out of city hall.

I opened my mouth and spoke.

"Where are you two planning to sleep tonight?"

Austin froze.

"Should I head back and make up our master bedroom for you guys?"

Only then did he look down and see me sitting on the plastic ER chair.

"Clara?"

His brow furrowed instantly.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

I stared straight into his eyes.

I was the one who had nearly suffocated to death in our bed.

And he had the audacity to ask what I was doing here.

"Anaphylactic shock," I said. My voice was eerily calm. "The doctor said ten more minutes, and you’d be planning my funeral."

A crack finally appeared in Austin’s composed mask.

His lips parted. His eyes darted away, desperately trying to recall what had happened hours earlier.

He remembered.

The shove he gave me had been quite forceful, after all.

"I... well, I thought it was just your usual..."

"Usual what?" I cut him off. "My usual inability to breathe? My usual almost dying?"

The woman beside him tugged gently on his sleeve and whispered, "Austin, maybe you should take me home first? Your wife..."

"Shut up," I snapped, glaring at her.

She flinched.

I ignored her and turned back to Austin.

He stood beneath the harsh hospital lights, his hand still firmly supporting her arm.

I had nearly choked to death, and he told me I was making too much noise.

"How long have you been cheating on me?"

Austin’s face instantly flushed crimson.

"What did you just say?"

"I asked how long you've been sleeping with her."

"Clara, have you lost your damn mind?" His voice spiked, drawing stares from other patients waiting nearby. "You come to the hospital in the middle of the night just to throw a psychotic tantrum? I’m just helping a coworker get patched up in the ER!"

"A coworker?" I scoffed. "You tuck your coworkers in at night?"

He rubbed his face aggressively, annoyance dripping from every pore. "I knew you’d pull this."

"Pull what?"

"Your crazy, paranoid routine." He pointed a finger inches from my nose. "We’ve been married for nine years. Have you ever trusted me for a single second? If I grab lunch with a team member, you sulk. If I say three words to a female colleague, you demand to check my phone. Now someone gets hurt, I give her a ride to urgent care, and you accuse me of having an affair?"

The woman chimed in, putting on her best victim face.

"It’s really not what you think, Mrs. Davis. Austin and I are just coworkers. I accidentally cut my finger, and he was kind enough to bring me in for a bandage. If I caused a misunderstanding, I’m truly sorry."

She lowered her head, her eyes brimming with theatrical tears.

Austin immediately wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "Don't apologize to her. You're already hurt. Don't lower yourself to her level."

I sat in the chair, feeling the needle in my vein throb with each heartbeat.

What a pathetic show.

His wife had almost died, and instead of showing a shred of remorse, he stood there coddling another woman and calling me insane.

"Fine," I nodded. "Enjoy playing hero."