Chapter 3

Zander handed me a cup of warm water.

"If you need it, I can help you arrange for a caregiver," he said in a professional tone.

"That won't be necessary. I can take care of myself." I took the cup. "Thank you for today."

"Just doing my job as a doctor." He glanced at his watch. "I have a meeting. I should go. If you feel unwell later, come back to the hospital."

"Okay."

Watching his retreating figure, I took a sip of water.

Warm---just right to ease the spasms in my stomach.

I stayed at the hospital overnight for observation.

The next day, gauze still on my forehead, I returned to the house I shared with Hudson.

In the living room, two pairs of slippers sat side by side.

One was my taupe slippers. The other was a pair of pink bunny slippers.

Those were from last month when Cecilia tried to jump off a building and Hudson brought her here to stay temporarily.

At the time he'd said, "Cecilia's depression is acting up. It's not safe for her to live alone. Be reasonable about this."

I was reasonable.

The result? My face wash was replaced with her preferred brand.

The closet gained a row of her pajamas.

Even the succulents on the balcony were replaced with roses because, according to her, they "made her feel depressed."

On the table sat a half-eaten walnut cake.

I'm allergic to walnuts. Hudson always knew this.

But Cecilia liked them, so the house was always stocked with walnut cake.

Once, I ate some by mistake. My whole body broke out in hives and I couldn't breathe.

Hudson took me to the hospital, but only blamed me: "It's written so clearly on the package. You didn't read it yourself---whose fault is that?"

He knew.

But he didn't look.

I grabbed a garbage bag.

I threw in the bunny slippers and the walnut cake.

I grabbed the potted roses from the balcony and smashed them into the trash bin, pot and all.

I started packing my things. There wasn't much.

Over these five years, I'd spent all my energy trying to fit into Hudson's life.

The closet was full of neutral-colored clothes he preferred.

The vanity held the light perfume he was used to smelling.

My phone rang. It was Hudson's mother.

"Nina, I heard Hudson went abroad?" Her voice carried its usual criticism.

"Yes." I folded clothes into my suitcase.

"Really, you should know better. You know Cecilia's health is fragile---why didn't you go take care of her? Hudson's just a man. How could he be as attentive as you?"

I stopped what I was doing.

"Mrs. Barrett, I'm Hudson's fiancée, not Cecilia's caregiver."

Silence on the other end.

"How can you talk like that? Cecilia is so pitiful. Why are you competing with someone who's ill? Besides, Hudson has a kind heart. As the future Mrs. Barrett, can't you be more magnanimous?"

"I'm very magnanimous," I said, zipping up my suitcase. "That's why I'm giving the position of Mrs. Barrett to her."

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like." I hung up.

Dragging my suitcase to the door, I looked back at the house I'd lived in for three years.

Our engagement photo still hung on the wall.

In it, Hudson looked at the camera, but his gaze was distracted.

That day during the shoot, Cecilia had sent him a message.

Then he went to make a call, leaving me waiting under the stage lights for two hours.

I walked over and took down the frame.

Face down, I tossed it on the floor.

I pulled my suitcase out of the complex.

Taking out my phone, I messaged my realtor.

[That property in South District---list it for me. The faster the better.]

That was the dowry house my parents left me. Hudson had said we'd live there after the wedding since it was close to his company.

Now, it wasn't needed.

The realtor replied instantly: [Miss Nina, Mr. Hudson contacted us yesterday about that property. He wants to transfer it to a Miss Lewis.]

I stared at the words on the screen. My fingers felt cold.