Chapter 3

Grace POV

The next morning when I woke up, I opened my phone.

Ethan had called 11 times.

There were two SnapChat messages.

The first: [Where are you? Why is no one home?]

The second: [Grace, did you run off to Maya's again? Stop throwing a tantrum and come home. The food in the fridge will go bad.]

He always seemed to think all my reactions were just tantrums.

Arguing was a tantrum, questioning was a tantrum, even moving out was a tantrum.

In his eyes, I was like a child who periodically cried, and a little coaxing would quiet me down, or if not, I'd stop eventually on my own.

I didn't reply, got up, washed my face, and left for work.

When I arrived at the hospital, I ran into Chloe from the Medical Education Department in the administrative building's elevator.

She looked me up and down, then whispered,"Grace, did you know? Yesterday Ethan took Serena out for dinner at the cafeteria."

"Just the two of them, ordered four dishes, and a drink."

As she spoke, the mix of cautious gossip and sympathy in her tone made my stomach churn.

I forced a smile:"Chloe, who he dines with is none of my business."

Chloe visibly paused, probably not expecting that reply.

The elevator arrived, and I walked out first.

It wasn't until I sat down at my desk that I realized my hands were shaking.

I suddenly remembered something else.

Late last year, I spent a whole month organizing clinical data for Ethan.

Every day after work, I wouldn't go home; I'd stay in the office checking data, drawing charts, and adjusting formats.

During that time, I lost six pounds, and my right eye twitched frequently from staring at the screen for so long.

The day the paper was published, Ethan treated the department to a meal.

Someone at the table asked him,"Ethan, the data for this paper is impressive. Who helped you with it?"

He held his water glass and said,"Serena was involved throughout. Hard work for her."

Serena sat beside him, smiling and waving her hand,"It was nothing, just teamwork."

I sat at the very end of the table, my fork suspended mid-air.

No one looked at me.

Including Ethan.

Later, on the way home, I asked him,"I clearly did that data, why did you say it was Serena?"

He seemed unconcerned, casually remarking,"You weren't an author anyway. No one knows your name, what good would it do to mention you?"

What good would it do?

Because I was just Grace from the administrative office, not an orthopedic doctor anymore.

My name appearing in the paper's acknowledgments section would be too much, let alone in any important context.

What I did was invisible.

Just like I was invisible in his world.

…

That morning, I was distracted.

I flipped through the research grant application three times, but not a single word registered in my mind.

At 10:30, my phone lit up.

An app notification.

[10:27 Ethan arrived on the first floor of the administrative building, lingered in the lobby for 1 minute 42 seconds, then took the elevator up, target floor 3.]

The third floor was my office.

I instinctively sat up straight.

Then I felt ridiculous for reacting that way.

We were getting divorced; if he came, he came.

Two minutes later, Ethan indeed appeared at the office door.

He seemed to have come directly from the department; his hair was a bit messy, like he had just finished surgery.

He glanced at the others in the office, walked up to me, and whispered,"Come outside with me."

I looked up at him.

Before, when he used that tone, I would immediately stand up and follow him.

Now I said,"Say whatever you need to say right here."