Chapter 1
"We've tentatively scheduled you for the 10th of next month. We've emailed you the surgical plan. Please review and sign it within 2 days."
"All right. I understand."
"Mrs. Hawthorne, amputation surgery is irreversible. You'll also face a long period of phantom limb pain afterward, and you'll need a family member there to care for you. Have you discussed this with your husband?"
"You don't need to tell him," I said calmly. "I'll bring someone with me."
After I hung up the international call, I placed my phone facedown on the table.
Outside, cold moonlight shimmered in muddy puddles. Night air slipped through the c***k in the window and dried the last involuntary tear at the corner of my eye.
Familiar, steady footsteps sounded outside the door.
The heavy wooden door of the inn below the mountain church swung open.
Adrian stepped inside carrying a hot meal he'd waited 2 hours in line for. A few pine needles still clung to his shoulder.
The moment he saw how pale I was, sitting alone in my wheelchair, concern flooded his eyes.
He crossed the room in long strides. He didn't even stop to take off his coat before dropping to one knee in front of me.
"I'm sorry, honey. Are your legs hurting again?"
His large, warm hands closed around my cold ones. His voice was thick with guilt and regret.
"It was crowded down the mountain. I got back late, and I wasn't here to take care of you."
His palms were burning hot.
I lowered my eyes to the platinum wedding band on his ring finger, the ring that was supposed to symbolize unwavering love and fidelity.
My stomach turned.
That prenatal checkup report felt like a rusty saw dragging back and forth across my nerves. With every pass, his loving facade seemed to split a little wider.
"They don't hurt." I tried to pull my hands free.
When I said nothing else, Adrian assumed I was in so much pain that I didn't have the strength to speak.
His eyes reddened. He stood and lifted me gently onto the bed.
Then he went into the bathroom and returned with a basin of warm water.
He crouched beside the bed and wrung out a towel.
With his head bowed, he slowly wiped my severely atrophied, misshapen calves, inch by inch.
His movements were so reverent that it was as if he were caring for a priceless work of art.
A tear landed on my knee.
If I hadn't seen his message saying that touching me felt like inviting bad luck, I would have fallen for this performance all over again.
I gripped the bedsheet and fought the urge to kick him away.
"I'm fine. Just a little tired," I said hoarsely.
"Okay. Close your eyes and rest. Don't think about anything. I'm right here."
He carefully tucked the blanket around me, his eyes heavy with concern.
That night, as always, Adrian held me tightly in his arms.
He gently rubbed his chin against the top of my head.
The chill of the mountain still clung to him, but it couldn't mask the cloying scent of another woman's perfume.
I lay awake until dawn.
His heartbeat thudded steadily against my ear.
My mind kept replaying the explicit messages between him and Sophia.
By day, he could stand in a church and pray for the baby growing inside Sophia.
By night, he could cry as he rubbed ointment onto my ruined legs.
In his mind, he'd given Sophia love and a child, while I got to be his wife and receive his constant, attentive care.
The way he split his life in two, convinced he could have everything he wanted, made my skin crawl.
The next morning, we took a chauffeured car back to Cresthaven.
The car was quiet.
As soon as we entered the city, Adrian's phone began to vibrate.
He glanced at the screen and answered immediately.
When he ended the call, he turned to me with a troubled expression and took my hand.
"Honey, something urgent came up at the company. I need to take care of it." His voice was apologetic as he coaxed, "Can I have the driver take you home first? I promise I'll be back early tonight to have dinner with you."
I looked into his eyes.
He tried to hide it, but his anxiety and barely contained excitement were impossible to miss.
I knew exactly why. Today was Sophia's prenatal appointment.
I forced a small, understanding smile.
"Of course. Work is important. Go take care of it."
"Thank you, honey."
Relief washed over him. He leaned in, kissed my forehead, and hurried out of the car.
I leaned back against the seat and watched him leave without a backward glance. Whatever warmth I still had for him turned to ice.
The car stopped in front of the villa.
I wheeled myself inside, alone in the vast, empty house.
