Chapter 3

[At the hotel.]

I replied tersely. Sean immediately called me.

"Wendy, Lily got badly burned. She's in the hospital right now."

"Go back to the apartment and pack a few changes of clothes for Tiffany and me. Then make some soup and a few dishes. Tiffany's been running around all day without a bite to eat. Hospital food turns her stomach; she can't eat it."

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply.

Pressing my throbbing temples with my fingers, I reminded him as calmly as possible:

"Sean, I'm pregnant. The smell of cooking fumes makes me throw up."

There was a brief pause on the other end.

Then came Tiffany's tearful, hesitant voice:

"Sean, let's not trouble Wendy. I can be strong. I'll just rest a bit and cook myself..."

"I'm right here, why do you need to be strong?!"

With that, Sean hung up abruptly.

A second later, another text arrived.

[Just endure it for a bit.]

[The door code is 0718. Hospital room 1456. Bring an extra blanket for Tiffany. The hospital AC is freezing, and I don't want her catching a cold.]

I stared at the familiar passcode. It was our wedding anniversary.

How brutally ironic.

I entered the code and let myself into Sean's apartment.

On the refrigerator in the kitchen was a sticky note in Sean's handwriting:

[Tiffany, I made lunch and left it in the fridge. Just heat it up for you and Lily. I'm heading out. Get some rest and sleep in.]

So, Sean knew how to cook after all.

A sharp pain pierced my chest. I forced myself to ignore it.

Fighting the violent nausea swirling in my stomach, I tied on an apron and turned on the stove. Halfway through, my body gave out. I collapsed over the sink, vomiting until I was choking on bitter bile.

Splashing cold water on my pale face, I packed the food into containers.

Then, pushing through my exhaustion, I went to Tiffany's wardrobe.

When I slid the door open, the bottom shelves were overflowing with gifts Sean had bought her. They were neatly organized with dates labeled, the gift boxes preserved in pristine condition.

The earliest was from seven years ago—the second day Sean had arrived here.

The most recent was from yesterday. The sticky note bore Sean's neat script:

[Saw this and thought it would look gorgeous on you, so I bought it.]

I squeezed my eyes shut, searching my memories.

In the end, all I could do was shake my head in bitter mockery.

In all our years of marriage, Sean had never once given me a gift.

A call every five days, a FaceTime call once a month, seeing each other for only seven miserable days a year.

Gifts?

To me, that was an unimaginable luxury.

I packed her clothes and shut the wardrobe door.

Before leaving, I picked up the divorce agreement resting on the coffee table.

Let's sign it today.

Seven years was long enough. I couldn't drag this out for another second.

When I arrived at the hospital room with the bags, Tiffany was leaning against Sean's shoulder, asleep.

I glanced at the empty visitor's cot beside them and lowered my eyes.

I set the things on the table.

The sound was barely a whisper, but Tiffany jerked awake anyway.

She scrambled up, anxiously explaining:

"Wendy, don't get the wrong idea."

"I was just so scared and exhausted, so I leaned on Sean's shoulder for a quick rest."

I didn't answer right away.

I looked at Lily lying in the hospital bed, thick gauze wrapped around her shoulder, sleeping fitfully.

Only then did I respond.

"It's fine. How is the girl?"

"Severe burns on her shoulder. She might need skin grafts later. The doctor said it'll likely leave a permanent scar. Wendy, can I beg you for a favor? Could you lend Sean to me for a while? If I have to do this alone, I'll completely break down."

As Tiffany spoke, tears began rolling down her cheeks again.

Sean pulled her into his arms, murmuring a few soft words of comfort.

Then he frowned and looked at me, his expression torn.

"Wendy, Lily is in this state. I can't just walk away."

"Think of it as an act of mercy. Just let me stay here at the hospital to take care of them."