Chapter 3
585 Words
"Elias was worn out last night and hasn't woken up. Come on in and wait, Rosalind."
The irony wasn't lost on me. This was Elias' home—I'd lived here for three years.
Ever since our hush-hush marriage, I'd moved in, even handpicking every knick-knack in this place.
My eyes landed on the wind chime dangling by the door.
Whether by accident or design, Thea noticed how I treasured it. With a sharp slam, the chime exploded across the floor.
The hidden engraving was revealed.
Their initials—E.B. and T.A.—nestled between a row of heart carvings.
I bowed my head silently, my heart sinking.
That chime had taken me two months to craft. The moment I finished, Elias swiped it from me, promising to carve our names for "everlasting love".
Back then, we hadn't even hit our first anniversary. Naturally, I'd assumed he meant our love.
I'd hung it right where everyone could see.
But now...
All this time, every time I'd touched that chime, I'd been ringing the bells of their love.
The crash sent Elias stumbling out—just in time to see their names glittering in the wreckage.
His face darkened. In three strides, he blocked my view.
Behind him, the master bedroom gaped open.
The evidence of last night's romp was plastered across the room—strewn condoms, tangled clothes, the whole sordid display.
Under his shifty gaze, I finally spoke.
"Your birthday's coming up, Uncle. How about I stock you up on condoms as a gift?"
"Since you're so crazy about Thea but won't put a ring on it, you'd better not make her pregnant, right?"
I dropped the items and turned toward the door.
Elias lunged after me.
However, Thea let out a yelp of pain. A shard had gashed her hand.
Without hesitation, he ditched me.
He swept her up bridal-style, snatching my car keys as he passed.
Without even a backward glance, he spoke up.
"You're on your own, Rosalind. My car's restricted today, and Thea can't have scars. Hospital. Now."
He vanished down the hall.
The door was wide open, and an icy draft was gnawing through me.
I pulled out the divorce papers, drinking in one last look at the home I'd shared with him for three years.
I wanted to play the tragic heroine from those melodramatic novels—to toss out every last trace of my past. But after searching through everything, I realized Elias and I never even took wedding photos.
I couldn't even throw a wedding ring at that bastard as they do in the stories. Why? Because we never even bought one.
In the end, I hailed a cab and went home.
On the way, I sent the divorce papers to Elias.
The next second, his angry voice message blasted through my phone.
"Rosalind Fairchild! Can't you be reasonable? Just because I took Thea to the hospital, you're threatening me with divorce?"
"Thea's hands are treasured—not a single flaw is allowed!"
I stretched out my right hand, tracing the tiny scars etched into my skin.
He cherished her hands. But since when does a teacher need perfect hands?
For three years, all it took was one word from Thea, and Elias would abandon me just to cook for her.
Meanwhile, I—a surgeon—was the one he begged to handle laundry and cooking?
I lowered my head and kept typing.
Rosalind: Elias, let's get this over with. My junior's already planning my wedding.
- Writer
