The next day at noon, a friend I had not seen in a while asked me to lunch. We sat across from each other, talking softly, and I tried to ease the gloom that had built up inside me.

But fate insisted on grinding away the last scrap of my dignity.

When I looked up, I suddenly saw two familiar figures.

Sebastian walked in front, tall and refined, his suit immaculate. Beside him, shoulder to shoulder, was Serena.

The instant our eyes met, Sebastian stopped short, surprise and a flicker of panic churning in his gaze.

Almost at once he came toward me, his words rushed, deliberately covering and explaining. "Vivienne, listen to me. I was at the office all morning. I just ran into Serena over lunch, that's all. We only happened to eat together."

Every line was forced, every word guilty.

Before I could speak, Serena gave a gentle little smile. "Vivienne, what a coincidence. If you don't mind, why don't you and your friend join us? It's livelier with more people."

With the moment at an impasse and no way to refuse, I gave a faint nod and moved with my friend to their table.

Before long a server came over carrying a tureen of scalding soup.

Just as the dish was about to touch the table, Serena rose, saying she was going to the restroom.

She swayed slightly, and her arm knocked against the server's wrist.

The boiling soup spilled out all at once.

It held nothing back. Half of it splashed across the back of Serena's hand, and the other half came down hard on my forearm and shoulder.

The searing pain shot through my skin at once, spreading in a raw, prickling wave. The fabric stuck to the burn, and the ache left my fingertips trembling.

But in the next instant, every bit of Sebastian's attention, all of his alarm, landed on Serena.

"Are you all right? Is it bad? Don't be scared, I'll get you to a hospital right now."

My friend froze, stunned, then quickly pulled out napkins to wipe the soup away, aching for me.

I looked down at the wide, red, burning wound on my arm and shook my head. The pain inside me had long since drowned out the pain of the burn.

So favoritism really could go that far.

Even though I was just as badly hurt, even though I was his lawful wife, in his eyes the smallest scratch on Serena was worth losing his composure over, while I could be covered in wounds and never deserve a single shred of care.

I bore the pain alone, and with my friend beside me went to the same hospital to have the wound treated.

After a careful examination the doctor frowned and said plainly that the burn was large and deep, that the skin was badly damaged, and that it needed dressing and rest to heal.

It was then that Sebastian, having seen to Serena's hand, finally showed up.

He must have caught the doctor's account and realized I was the more seriously hurt, because a faint trace of guilt finally crossed his face.

He came to my bedside. "Doctor, please take extra care. She's pregnant, so be cautious with any medication or treatment."

The moment he said it, the doctor was about to ask about the pregnancy and explain my condition.

My chest tightened. I reached out at once and lightly pressed the doctor's arm, shaking my head faintly to stop the rest of his words.

Once the wound was treated, I leaned back against the headboard and fell into a heavy sleep.

At midnight, the ward was utterly silent.

I woke with a start from a shallow sleep. The dark around me was still, and from the next room came low, hushed voices that drifted clearly into my ears.

"Serena, all these years I have never let you go. I was a fool before, a coward, too afraid to face my own heart, so I got by on Vivienne's shadow."

Serena's voice was reluctant and hesitant. "Have you really lost your mind? You have been married to Vivienne for three years. She depends on you, she loves you. How can you just let her go like that?"

"I'm thinking clearly."

Sebastian's voice was unshakable. "I only married her because she looks like you. These three years were a compromise, something to soothe an obsession. If you'll come back, if you'll stay with me, I'll divorce Vivienne right away, cleanly, and give you a real place in my life. For the rest of my days, there will be only you."

"The Don needs an heir. Once she has the child, I'll be with you, Serena."

Every word was sincere, every line final.

So my three-year marriage, my three years of love, had been nothing from beginning to end but the interval in which he waited for the woman he truly wanted to come back.

I sat quietly on the cold hospital bed, the burn on my arm throbbing in waves, though it was not a fraction of the pain in my chest.

I did not cry, and I did not make a scene.

I only lifted the blanket in silence and got out of bed.

The night was deep, the corridor cold and empty. Without a sound I turned and walked back to my own room, burying every absurd, heartless word deep inside me.

I did not sleep at all.

The next morning, just as it grew light, the door of my room was thrown open.

Sebastian rushed in, his face frantic, his eyes bloodshot, his whole body radiating menace and agitation.

He strode to my bedside and bent down, staring me dead in the eye, his voice cold and savage, full of accusation and suspicion. "Vivienne, did you do this?"

I lifted my eyes and looked at him calmly.

He clenched his fists, his eyes full of distrust and misplaced fury, every word sharp and cold. "You heard me and Serena last night. Did you turn bitter and hire someone to kidnap her on purpose?"

"I'm warning you." His expression was vicious, colder and more merciless than I had ever seen. "If anything happens to Serena, I don't care who you are, I don't care how much you love me, I will never let you off."

Sebastian pulled every connection and every ounce of power he had, searching the whole city like a man possessed. After a full day and night, he finally got Serena back.

"Sebastian, this had nothing to do with Vivienne. She didn't do it. You've got her wrong."

That one short sentence shattered all of Sebastian's suspicion and certainty in an instant.

He went rigid, the menace draining from his eyes, replaced by heavy shock and a belated trace of guilt.

A moment later he walked into my room.

"Vivienne, I'm sorry. I was rash. I blamed you wrongly."

So no matter how I explained myself, it counted for nothing next to one light sentence from Serena.

After I was discharged, I went back alone to the house full of false tenderness.

One by one I gathered up the expensive, exquisite gifts and tossed them into a discard box.

There was no reluctance and no regret, only a complete sense of release. I did not want a shred of the affection built on lies.

Once Sebastian had settled things with Serena, he hurried back to the house.

"Vivienne, stop sulking. It was my fault. I'll never let you feel slighted again. I'll buy all of it back for you. Don't be angry, okay?"

He fumbled to make amends, soothing me out of habit with lavish gifts and soft words, certain that, as always, a little coaxing would bring me around.

But my calm and my indifference unsettled him more than any hysterics could have.

He was about to say more when the phone in his pocket rang urgently.

A rushed, panicked voice on the line told him Serena had suddenly developed acute leukemia. Her condition was dangerous, and she urgently needed a marrow match or her life would be at risk.

The color drained from Sebastian's face. Without a moment's hesitation, he rushed to the hospital.

Everyone from Serena's family and all of Sebastian's relatives came to the hospital to be tested, but one after another the results came back, and not a single one matched. Every hope collapsed.

The mood outside the ward was heavy with despair as Serena's body grew weaker and her life hung in the balance.

In the thick of his anxiety, Sebastian turned to where I stood quietly in the corner, his tone hard and brooking no refusal. "Vivienne, you get tested too."

The moment he spoke, an elder beside us cut in, full of worry. "Sebastian, no! Vivienne is still pregnant. She absolutely cannot take that risk!"

Everyone was thinking of my body, of the child I had once carried.

Only Sebastian had eyes for nothing but the dying Serena.

His face was hard, his tone final, utterly unmoved, every word cutting. "There can be other pregnancies later. There is only one Serena. Next to her life, this little risk isn't worth mentioning."

As the words landed, the room fell completely silent.

I stood where I was, eyes lowered, as the last faint, trivial hope inside me crumbled to ash.

In his eyes, my body, my child, and my life could never measure up to Serena's slightest comfort.

I did not argue and I did not resist. I went along and gave the marrow sample.

After a few days' wait, the results came back.

I was not a match.

Everyone quietly breathed easier, all but Sebastian, whose eyes filled with heavy disappointment and defeat.

Just as everyone neared despair, word came from the hospital that the one perfect marrow match had been found.

That afternoon, passing the study, I heard low voices through the half-open door, Sebastian and the doctor.

Every word was clear, and every one cut deep.

"It's confirmed. The only match is you, Don."

"Acute leukemia can't wait. Your marrow is the only hope of saving Miss Brooks."

The next second came Sebastian's voice, steady and certain, without a trace of hesitation. "I know. Schedule the procedure immediately and get the transplant to Serena as soon as possible. Keep this strictly confidential. Don't let Vivienne find out."

The doctor sounded uneasy. "Don, marrow donation takes a serious toll on the body. You will need a long recovery afterward. Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"As long as it saves Serena, a little damage is nothing. I'll come up with an excuse afterward, say there's urgent business that needs me overseas and that I'll be away for a while. Once the surgery's done and she's fully recovered, everything will be fine."

I stood outside the door, my fingertips cold, a clear and total emptiness settling in my heart.

So that was it.

For Serena he would gamble his own health and give everything, without a backward glance.

My child and I, by contrast, had always been nothing more than disposable accessories in his life.

On the day of the surgery, bright sunlight fell through the glass into the front hall.

I walked up to him and held out a plain white gift box.

"For you," I said evenly.

He took it for a peace offering now that I had cooled down. Relieved, he reached out and accepted the box, but did not open it.

His mind was entirely on Serena waiting in the operating room. With no attention to spare for me, he offered an offhand reassurance. "When I'm back from my business trip, I'll spend real time with you."

With that he turned and hurried off, and lay down in the operating room.

The heavy doors of the operating room swung slowly shut, sealing away every obsession he had chased.

At the same time, at the airport on the edge of the city.

Dragging a single suitcase, my immigration visa already in hand, I turned and boarded a flight to a faraway country.

The plane lifted off and broke through the clouds, looking down on the city that had trapped three years of my love, three years of my honest heart.

At last I was free.

There was no gift in his box.

There was only a clean medical report confirming the abortion, and a divorce agreement already signed and in effect.