Chapter 3

Ethan didn't come back all night.

Because of the stalker in my garage, I was too terrified to leave the apartment in the dark.

I endured the throbbing pain all night. The moment the sun rose, I called an Uber and went to the hospital myself.

When the doctor saw the state of my knee, his face turned incredibly grave. "This is highly irresponsible! Why did you wait so long to see a doctor? Do you want to lose the ability to walk?"

The genuine concern from a stranger suddenly broke the dam of emotions I had been holding back.

All the pain, loneliness, and exhaustion of the past six years rushed out, and I burst into tears right there in the examination room.

The sweet old doctor, Dr. Reynolds, was completely thrown off by my sudden sobbing. He frantically started handing me tissues, trying his best to comfort me.

But the nicer he was, the harder I cried.

Once I finally calmed down, Dr. Reynolds gently asked what had happened. I ended up pouring my heart out, telling him everything about my toxic six-year marriage.

The old doctor was absolutely furious by the end of it, muttering curses under his breath about "worthless, spineless boys."

I had a feeling that if Ethan were standing in front of him, Dr. Reynolds would have happily smacked him with his clipboard.

He was such a sweet, protective old man.

After venting to him, I felt a massive weight lift off my chest.

As I was leaving, Dr. Reynolds insisted on setting me up with his handsome, successful nephew. I couldn't bear to break his heart by refusing, so I smiled and gave him my contact info.

But as I walked out of the clinic lobby, I ran straight into Ethan carrying Clara in his arms.

Ethan froze, a quick flash of panic crossing his eyes when he saw me.

Clara noticed me too. She immediately snuggled closer into his chest, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. She gave me a sweet, apologetic smile.

"Chloe, please don't get the wrong idea. I accidentally sprained my ankle, so Ethan had to carry me. We really are just friends."

She subtly tilted her leg to show me a tiny, practically invisible scratch on her ankle.

I looked at it and said flatly, "You should hurry inside. If you wait any longer, that devastating wound might heal on its own."

I turned to walk away.

Ethan called out to me, his expression complicated. "I told you to wait for me at home, Chloe. Why did you come to the hospital by yourself? Is your knee okay?"

I glanced back, a cold smirk on my lips. "If I had waited for you, they would have had to amputate my leg."

Ethan flinched, opening his mouth to speak, but Clara cut him off.

"Ethan... my ankle is really starting to throb again..."

Instantly, all of Ethan's attention shifted back to her. He completely forgot about me, carrying her hurriedly into the emergency wing.

Watching their retreating figures, I let out a dry laugh.

I pulled out my phone and called Lucas Davis, an old high school classmate.

At our last reunion, I heard he had become one of the most ruthless and successful divorce attorneys in the state.

After spending the afternoon with Lucas discussing asset division and preparing the paperwork, I felt an incredible sense of peace.

That night, I fell asleep almost instantly.

In the middle of the night, I felt the bed shift, and a pair of hands reached around my waist.

My mind instantly flashed back to the terrifying memory of the stalker in the garage. My body went into a state of pure fight-or-flight.

I grabbed the heavy brass table lamp from the nightstand and smashed it backward with all my might.

A loud, agonizing scream echoed through the dark bedroom.

I flicked the light switch on. Ethan was clutching his forehead, blood streaming down his face, groaning in pain.

I stared at him coldly. "Sorry. I thought you were a home invader."

I let out a yawn and prepared to pull the covers back over my head.

Ethan stared at my cold back, his face turning pale and rigid. He stood there for several minutes, completely speechless.

Seeing that I had absolutely no intention of tending to his wound, he reluctantly walked over to my side of the bed, knelt down, and nudged my shoulder. His voice sounded pathetic. "Chloe... I’m bleeding."

Without even opening my eyes, I replied, "Then go to the ER. I’m not a doctor."

His hand froze on my shoulder. "Chloe, aren't you even going to comfort me? Go grab the first aid kit and help me clean this up. Please?"

I shoved his hand away in irritation. "Stop being so annoying. It’s a tiny scratch. Why are you acting like such a baby? You don't have to work tomorrow, but I do. Let me sleep."

My words pushed Ethan over the edge. His voice cracked with rage.

"Chloe! What the hell is wrong with you?! In the past, if I so much as got a paper cut, you would be crying and taking care of me twenty-four hours a day!"

"Ever since Clara came back, you've been throwing these petty tantrums, giving me the silent treatment! I’ve told you a million times, Clara and I are completely innocent!”

“I'm telling you, my patience is running thin. If you keep acting like this, we might as well just get a divorce!"

In our six years of marriage, I had lost count of how many times Ethan had threatened me with divorce.

He used to do it because he knew how desperately I loved him. Whenever I did something he didn't like, he would throw the "divorce" card out without hesitation.

Then he would watch me grovel like a pathetic beggar, doing everything in my power to please him and earn his forgiveness.

He was entirely convinced that I could never live without him.

But this time, as he stood there waiting for my usual begging, I looked him dead in the eye and said quietly:

"Okay. Let’s divorce."