My Husband Chose Her, I Took My Own Path

Chapter 2

Because I was in a bad mood over the bionic prosthetic limb spot, and since it happened to be Valentine's Day, William suggested taking a day off, saying he wanted to make it up to me.

When I finished my rehab and returned home, things were already prepared on the coffee table: an exquisitely wrapped gift box, a small bouquet of roses, and a reservation confirmation for a restaurant he had personally booked.

William pushed the gift box toward me. "A gift for you. Consider it my apology."

Opening the box revealed a jade bead bracelet with a warm texture. It was a style I had casually mentioned liking when we were out shopping before.

"The application process for the bionic prosthetic limb spot has already been completed, so it really can't be recalled." He looked into my eyes, his tone sincere. "For the next batch, I'll use all my connections to push your priority to the very top." He reached out, gently covering the back of my hand with his warm palm. "Don't be angry anymore, okay? Today belongs only to us."

I didn't say anything, nor did I pull my hand back. I just nodded quietly.

We went out and got into the car. I habitually sat in the passenger seat, a spot that belonged exclusively to me.

Just as the car drove out of the underground garage, the phone rang, with Olivia's name flashing on the screen. Without a moment's hesitation, William answered it.

A soft, trembling sob immediately came from the other end, sounding panicked and fragile. "William, are you home? I'm right downstairs at your apartment... I feel so terrible. Every time I think about the spot, the guilt suffocates me. I'm scared to be alone."

With just a few words, she perfectly manipulated all of William's sympathy. William frowned slightly, his tone softening. "Don't be afraid. Stay right there downstairs. I'm coming over."

Without even asking for my opinion or showing a hint of hesitation, he turned the steering wheel and pulled up right at the entrance of the neighborhood. The whole process took less than three seconds.

My carefully planned Valentine's Day and the reconciliation I had waited all day for were instantly ruined by a single phone call from Olivia.

William opened the passenger door. This passenger seat had been specially customized by William for me. The added right armrest and left arm support were designed to hold my empty left sleeve so I wouldn't have to struggle to keep my balance while riding in the car. Back then, he said the passenger seat would always be reserved for me, keeping me in the spot closest to him. But now, these customized features made specifically for me were being handed over entirely to Olivia.

He leaned down, gesturing for Olivia to get in. Olivia peeked timidly at me through the car window, feigning reluctance. "It's fine, William. I can just sit in the back. I don't want to ruin your holiday with Sophie..."

"It's fine." William's voice was firm and brooked no argument. "You're not feeling well. Sitting in the front will give you some air and make it easier for me to look after you."

With that single sentence, he crushed my last shred of dignity. He personally pushed me out of my exclusive spot.

Olivia smoothly slid into the passenger seat, right where I had been sitting moments ago. She even deliberately nudged herself toward the middle, hogging most of the front space.

Holding my bag in one hand, I had no other hand to open the door, standing outside in sheer embarrassment. He didn't get out to help me, nor did he offer a single word of apology, as if making me give up my seat was a perfectly natural compromise.

I gripped my bag strap tightly with my right hand. Opening the heavy back door with only one hand was incredibly difficult. My fingers slipped twice before I finally managed to wrench it open with all my strength.

Inside the car, a completely different scene met my eyes. The right armrest meant for me was being used by Olivia as a bag rack, and William had thoughtfully prepared a right arm support made of memory foam for her. It was much softer and thicker than the old one I had been using for years. Yet, he was the one who had run around to multiple manufacturers back then, comparing materials to customize that set for my missing arm. Back then, he even told me that every detail had to be considered perfectly for my sake. Now, that perfect consideration was handed over to another woman without reservation.

Arriving at the French restaurant we had booked, I looked at the familiar sign, a tiny, lingering hope still remaining in my heart. At least this dinner was booked specifically for me.