Chapter 3
1141 Words
Shawn hastily stuffed the divorce agreement into his pocket.
Yara spoke, her voice calm. "My mother is seriously ill. I wanted to ask Dr. Ewing about arranging a hospital transfer and pulling some strings for her treatment... I'm sorry, I'm just really worried about my mom."
Annie's expression softened immediately. "It's fine. You can always come to me for help next time."
"What are you doing here?" Shawn pulled her down to sit.
"Did you forget? You're the one who put a location tracker on my phone so I'd always know where you are," Annie said, her voice honey-sweet.
A sharp, bitter ache welled up from Yara's chest and swallowed her whole.
Shawn had always hated people who were too controlling. Back home, she never even dared to ask where he'd been. Yet for Annie, he was more than willing to let her track his every move.
"Yara, what are you spacing out about?"
Annie tapped Yara on the shoulder, her smile bright. "I invited you to dinner last time, but you were busy. Come eat with us today, and help me pick out a wedding dress while you're at it. Which one looks better? My husband's taste—honestly, I don't even know where to start."
"You're getting married that soon?" Yara froze.
Annie nodded firmly. "Next month. You absolutely have to be there."
Yara parted her lips, but before she could get a word out, she caught Shawn watching her with sharp wariness.
Bitterness flooded her chest. "...I have plans."
Annie grabbed Shawn's arm and cooed, "Honey, I don't have many friends here abroad. Come on, talk her into it."
Shawn brushed the tip of her nose affectionately. "Alright, whatever you want."
He turned to Yara, his tone so cold and distant it was like the two of them were complete strangers. "Since Ms. Dye wants to discuss the hospital transfer, we might as well talk about it at the bridal shop."
Yara let out a bitter smile and had no choice but to say yes.
At the bridal shop, Annie's wedding dresses had all been personally designed by Shawn—rows and rows of them, more than she could count.
"Does this one look good?" Annie twirled around in her wedding dress, blissful and giddy. "My husband didn't know which style I liked, so he had a custom gown made in every single design."
"Alright, alright." Shawn smiled tenderly and reached out to steady her. "You look beautiful in anything. Stop spinning, or you'll make yourself dizzy."
Seven years ago, on their own wedding day, Shawn had held her the exact same way.
"Yara, why aren't you saying anything?" Annie suddenly asked.
Yara snapped back to the moment and made up an excuse. "I'm on my period. I'm not feeling great, so I'm gonna go sit over there for a bit."
Shawn frowned and blurted out instinctively, "Didn't you already have your period this month?"
Yara stiffened.
The smile on Annie's face vanished. "Shawn, what are you talking about?"
Shawn immediately realized his slip and quickly pulled himself together. "Annie, I meant you. Isn't your cycle on the twenty-fifth?"
Annie's expression eased. "And you call yourself a doctor. You're such a scatterbrain. Pregnant women don't get their periods."
"I did a long surgery at the hospital yesterday. My head's just a little fried," Shawn explained, his eyes drifting instinctively toward Yara.
Yara hung her head without a word and walked over to sit quietly at the side.
Shawn hesitated for a split second, but soon got swept up in the joy of picking wedding dresses with Annie—failing to notice how tightly Annie's hands had clenched at her sides.
Yara sat for a while and was about to make an excuse to leave. But the second she stood up, a group of people stormed into the bridal shop, fierce and hostile.
The woman leading them scanned the room, spotted Yara, pointed straight at her, and shouted furiously, "That's her! The homewrecker! Get her!"
At her command, the men and women behind her rushed straight for Yara.
Yara was kicked hard to the ground with a sharp cry. "Ah—!!"
The woman grabbed Yara by the hair and hurled vicious insults. "You shameless little mistress, messing with my husband! I'll beat you senseless today!"
"What are you talking about? I don't even know your husband!" Yara struggled to shove her away, but the others pinned her down by her arms and legs.
The woman sneered. "Still trying to lie your way out? Strip her clothes off! I'll make sure she's too ashamed to show her face in public ever again!"
Yara went pale with terror. The men holding her took the chance to deliberately grope her chest and back.
Powerless and trapped, Yara instinctively screamed for Shawn.
"Shawn! Help me—!!"
But Shawn averted his gaze. He pulled Annie closer and stepped back several paces, frowning coldly. "Stay away from her from now on, or you'll get dragged into this mess and end up hurt."
"I don't think Yara seems like the type to be a mistress," Annie said, feigning surprise.
"You can't judge a person by their face," Shawn replied, indifferent.
Those few cold words hit Yara like a club to the head, freezing her where she lay.
The aggressive woman seized Yara's head and slammed it hard against the wall.
A dull thud echoed, and Yara blacked out instantly.
When she came to again, a bright white ceiling filled her vision, and the sharp smell of disinfectant hung thick in the air.
"She's finally awake! Get the doctor, quick!"
Annie's voice rang out beside her.
Yara turned her head and saw Annie waving a doctor into the room.
She focused her eyes. It was none other than Ryan Fulton, Shawn's best friend.
Ryan's face flickered with embarrassment when he saw Yara. He lowered his voice and murmured, "Ya...Yara."
"You know my husband's friend?" Annie asked, surprised.
Before Ryan could answer, Yara spoke first. "Dr. Fulton treated me back in my home country before."
"Oh, I see." Annie nodded, then turned to Yara. "You got knocked out in the beating and had an asthma attack. I couldn't just leave you like that, so I made Shawn bring you to the hospital."
"Don't worry, this is a VIP suite. Nobody's gonna come bother you here." She gave a playful wink.
Yara nodded at her in silence.
Once upon a time, whenever she had an asthma flare-up, Shawn would never use his medical privileges to get her a proper hospital room—all out of concern for professional ethics since she was family. On busy days, she'd even had to get IV drips in the freezing hallway.
Now, by some cruel twist of fate, she was lying in a luxury VIP ward—all because of Annie.
- Writer
