Henry had been confined to his hospital bed for three days now, without receiving a single word from Sophia. He had called her repeatedly, sent countless messages, but she might as well have vanished into thin air. No responses, no acknowledgments—nothing at all.
This silence reminded him of the early days of their marriage. After his recovery, he had thrown himself into work, and every day at noon, without fail, Sophia would text to ask if he’d eaten lunch. and what he’d had. At the time, he’d found her concern irritating, those simple messages nothing but an annoyance cluttering his phone.
Now Henry personally experienced how it felt when caring gestures went unacknowledged. That disappointment was crushing, leaving a hollow coldness in his chest that no amount of hospital heating could make him feel warm.
So this is what love does to you, he thought bitterly. It drags you down to dust, makes you smaller than a speck of dirt. If he had shown Sophia even a fraction of kindness back then, would he be suffering this payback now?
After three days of silence, he spotted Sophia pushing open his hospital room door, and his eyes instantly brightened. His normally ice–cold face broke into an eager smile, his heart filling with nervous anticipation as he watched her enter.
In stark contrast to Henry’s barely contained excitement, I maintained perfect composure. I gave him a quick, cold glance, but inwardly I was shocked. Was this disheveled, unshaven man really the immaculate Henry I knew?
If not for the nameplate at his bedside and James standing nearby, I might not have recognized him at all. There was something defeated about him–a once confident CEO who seemed abandoned by
the world.
But my surprise lasted only a moment before I returned to that state of complete indifference. I responded to his hopeful gaze with a disinterested, “Hmm.” My face was filled with coldness, exactly mirroring how he had once treated me.
Henry’s smile froze. “Sophia, I’m sorry! What happened last time was entirely my fault. I failed to protect you. I promise it won’t happen again, okay?”
I was far beyond believing his promises, remaining coolly detached, barely lifting my eyes to look at him. “Whatever. I don’t care anymore.” I had survived Henry’s worst treatment without breaking, so what were Catherine’s petty tactics worth to me now?
The light in Henry’s eyes dimmed. He looked at me desperately, a thousand words trapped throat, crystallizing into a painful lump. “Sophia, I…”
is
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Seeing him like this stirred nothing inside me. Henry, I’m only here to ask when you’ll matte divorce papers.”
My voice was steady and calm. “If you can’t give me a definite date, I need to consider other options: I came today to make my position clear: one way or another, this marriage will end. My attitude was cold and merciless, “Whether you want a divorce is irrelevant to me. My filing gives you freedom. and I’d appreciate the same courtesy in return.”
Truthfully, seeing Henry in such a deteriorated state did trigger a flicker of compassion deep inside me, but I immediately suppressed that feeling. For both of us to move on with our lives, a clean break was necessary.
Henry’s posture slumped further, his entire being enveloped in sadness so profound that even James, standing beside him, could feel its weight. After making my position clear, I turned to leave without
another word.
To be honest, seeing Henry so defeated made me hesitate–I swear! It was only out of pity for an injured patient, especially since he had been wounded protecting me. But, for both of us to find release sooner, I had to harden my heart.
In my heart, I had truly moved on from the man I once couldn’t stop thinking about. True healing isn’t about deliberately avoiding someone. It’s about being able to face someone who once made your heart flutter and remain completely unfazed–greeting them as casually as a stranger. After all, indifference is the cruelest revenge.
The moment I stepped through the doorway, Isabella charged toward me with tear–reddened eyes. “How could you treat Henry like that?” she shouted. “He’s still sick!”
In that moment, Isabella resembled nothing so much as an enraged mother cow protecting her calf. She glared at me with clenched fists, seemingly ready to attack at any second.
I calmly slipped my hands into my coat pockets and offered a small smile. “If I don’t behave this way, how will he ever agree to divorce me? How will I ever bring you two together?”
My voice dripped with false sweetness. “Miss Scott, I’m doing this all for you! Since you don’t mind taking my leftovers, I’m happily handing him over. Make sure you don’t waste the opportunity.”
Isabella wanted to argue against my sarcasm but found herself speechless. After all, getting Henry had always been her wish.
Watching Isabella gradually transform from an elegant socialite into a desperate woman who could only define herself through a man, I shook my head. “Miss Scott, there’s something you don’t understand. Being loved isn’t that important–especially by a man! Good health, financial security, a rich inner life–these things matter far more than a man’s affection. Don’t waste time and energy determining whether someone loves you or how much. Love or no love, what difference does it really
make?”
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I continued, my voice softening slightly, “My love is precious and vast. It flows to everything around me–a tree, a cloud, a sunset, morning coffee, late–night whiskey, a favorite movie, a famillar path, my family, my friends, and myself the self that never gives up. Isn’t that better?”
When I finally decided to divorce Henry, the pain had been excruciating–like being torn in half. In that moment, I resolved to love myself and those who truly loved me. Henry had become part of my past. Unfortunately, I realized this truth too late, having wasted six years in a meaningless marriage.
Isabella stood there, listening to my words, trying to understand them. But emotionally, she had long been unable to let go. Her childhood connection with Henry, six years of longing from afar- now that Sophia was finally filing for divorce, why should she abandon her chance?
Looking at Sophia, Isabella suddenly realized that the ordinary, desperate woman who had once revolved around Henry like a satellite had transformed. There was something about her now–the quality of a truly independent woman. That lonely, proud retreating figure possessed qualities she could never hope to match, leaving her with a strange sense of inadequacy.
Only after Sophia disappeared down the corridor did Catherine emerge. She found Isabella still standing there, lost in thought, and gave her a little push. “What are you daydreaming about, silly girl?”
Isabella snapped back to reality and, seeing her mother’s sudden appearance, lowered her voice to ask, “What are you doing here? Did you get the medicine?”
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