As I lay on the side of the road, unable to move after the accident, Bruce Wilson turned his back and walked off with Nalani Warren.

"I already called an ambulance for her. Let's go celebrate your birthday," he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

When the ambulance took me to the hospital and the staff needed a family member's signature, I called Bruce repeatedly, but all I got was ringing silence.

After my surgery, I stumbled across Nalani's Facebook update: "Bruce is the world's greatest. He surprised me with a trip to Paris for Fashion Week..."

The photo attached showed Bruce beaming at the camera, his eyes radiating warmth.

I didn't bother confronting him; instead, I calmly switched off my phone and concentrated on my recovery. Soon after I left the hospital, Bruce was desperately trying to track me down.

---

On the day I was discharged, Bruce called me for the first time.

He flatly ordered, "Raquel, pick us up at the airport. Nalani and me."

I glanced at my leg, encased in a cast, and replied in a steady voice, "I can't."

Bruce instantly snapped, "Raquel, cut the excuses. When we got married, you promised..."

I interrupted, irked by his assumptions.

"I'm at the hospital. I physically can't pick you up," I stated plainly.

Bruce paused, his indignation fading as he seemed to remember the accident.

I skipped the explanations and asked coolly if he needed anything else.

Bruce hesitated, "You were hospitalized that long after the accident? I thought it was just a minor thing."

Occupied with packing, I casually replied, "Yeah, but it's all good."

"If there's nothing else, I'm hanging up. Got to pack my stuff." After I ended the call, I didn't waste a moment worrying about Bruce's reaction.

Struggling a bit, I carried my things downstairs, waited a while for a cab, and finally headed home.

Opening the door, I found Bruce softly tending to Nalani's leg, fussing over an invisible injury.

Even with perfect vision, I couldn't spot any wound there.

Nalani turned to me and quickly jumped up, looking awkward.

"Raquel, I just... I just had a little slip. I'll be out in a jiffy, hope you don't mind."

Bruce, noting her standing, shot me a disapproving look and then gently reassured Nalani, "Your foot's scraped and bleeding. I won't be comfortable unless you stay here!"

"You gave your word. Don't change it now, you little rascal."

A shy blush colored Nalani's cheeks, but she anxiously said, "But Raquel's hurt too. Bruce, you can't take care of everyone."

Disregarding me, Bruce continued to comfort her, "It's different. She's tough; you're delicate—every little thing matters."

Nalani seemed to be contemplating her choices.

Bruce glared at me, his tone accusatory. "Raquel, you're not going to make a fuss, right? Nalani's hurt and it's just a couple of days."

I kept silent as Nalani seemed poised to pin all blame on me.

But unlike before, when her theatrics made me lose my cool, I was now indifferent.

"Stay as long as you want, I’m unbothered," I replied, casual as ever.

Nalani's eyes briefly registered surprise and dissatisfaction.

She seemed let down that she hadn't stirred a fight between Bruce and me.

What she didn't get was my indifference to Bruce's escapades, and whether she stayed or not made no difference.

This house was once our private haven.

Now, it was simply temporary shelter.

Once my leg healed, I planned to move out.

Ignoring Nalani’s impending confrontation, I walked into the bedroom and closed the door.

When Bruce returned to the bedroom after settling Nalani, I was already lying in bed, ready to sleep. As he climbed in, I noticed a conspicuous red mark on his neck. It was almost as if Nalani was smirking at me from afar.

In the past, seeing such a mark would have filled me with rage, prompting confrontations with Bruce and Nalani, no matter the fallout. Every confrontation felt like a losing battle. But now, I simply turned my attention back to my phone, indifferent to Bruce’s cold demeanor.

He seemed taken aback by my lack of reaction and appeared to want to say something. His gaze landed on the cast around my leg, and a flicker of concern crossed his face. “Raquel, did you get that injury in the car accident?” he asked.

I was immersed in reading some documents and hadn’t initially caught his words. He patiently repeated the question, and I finally registered what he said. The irony struck me hard; he noticed every blemish Nalani had, yet my plastered leg had been invisible to him.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. “Yes, it was,” I replied curtly. Bruce's expression softened with a twinge of guilt, which surprised me, but only slightly. As he remained silent, I prepared to return my attention to my phone.

Suddenly, Bruce tried to explain, “I saw you were hurt that day. When you called later, I assumed you were ready to argue, so I didn’t answer. I didn’t realize…” Though this was his first attempt in two years to justify himself, I was beyond caring. His words faded into the background.

Bruce sensed my indifference and seemed momentarily unsettled but managed to compose himself. “When do you need to change your bandages next? I’ll go with you.”

His offer seemed more like an obligation than genuine concern, and I was about to refuse when his phone rang. Nalani’s anxious voice came through the receiver. “Bruce, I… I can’t sleep in unfamiliar places. Could you come over and keep me company? Unless Raquel needs you…”

Without hesitation, Bruce got up from the bed, his voice gentle. “It’s alright. I didn’t realize you’d feel uncomfortable. I’ll come over right now.” He hung up and left the room without another thought.

Unable to suppress a bitter laugh, I recalled how Nalani had flooded me with photos of her and Bruce in countless hotel rooms. No trouble sleeping then, yet now she plays the damsel. That kind of excuse worked on Bruce but not on me. His absence brought me peace.

Unlike before, when Bruce and Nalani were together, and it haunted my nights with endless anticipation for his return, I slept soundly until morning. Upon waking, I found a message from Nalani sent during the night—a photo, showcasing Bruce’s skin marked with signs of their affection.

Suppressing my pain, I saved it as evidence for my divorce proceedings. After getting ready, I checked my phone and realized my meeting with the lawyer was approaching. Despite the challenge, I hurried to dress and prepared to leave.

Just as I was about to step out, Bruce called from the kitchen. “Raquel, heading out so early? Why not have breakfast first?”

His words startled me. After five years of marriage, this was his first offer to cook for me. He had only prepared something for me once, years ago in the hospital—a bowl of chicken soup. Despite my pleas later, he never returned to the kitchen for me. Yet, he’d make anything Nalani wished.

As expected, Nalani appeared behind him, her expression smug. “Raquel, join us! Bruce cooks the best meals. I’m lucky he caters to my cravings.”

Bruce glanced at me, an uneasy look on his face. I looked at the dish in his hands and smiled. “No thanks, you enjoy.”

Bruce seemed puzzled. “You used to beg me to cook for you, but now you don’t want it?”

I gave him a small, knowing smile. “Bruce, I’m allergic to eggs.” His dish was loaded with eggs. Without waiting for a response, I grabbed my keys and walked out the door.

When I met with the lawyer, he asked if I had thought about a mutual divorce settlement.

Thinking about everything that had happened recently, I shook my head calmly. "Let's just proceed with the divorce suit directly. I'll leave the rest to you."

I entrusted the entire divorce process to my lawyer. After taking care of this, I headed to the cemetery to move my parents' ashes back to our hometown. When my parents passed away unexpectedly, I was heartbroken. Bruce had managed all their funeral arrangements.

So, when the cemetery staff told me I needed the signature of the person who had handled the initial arrangements to move the ashes, I was momentarily taken aback.

I brought the consent form back and placed it in front of Bruce. He frowned, puzzled, and asked why. I replied, "I dreamed of my parents last night. They said they wanted to go back home."

Bruce was still not on board. "Won't it be a hassle to visit them in the future?"

During their lives, my parents had treated him like their own son. Every year, on their memorial day, Bruce would prepare a lot to pay his respects. But ever since Nalani came into the picture, he stopped attending those visits. The day he met Nalani happened to be the same day as my parents' memorial, and Bruce decided to spend that day celebrating with Nalani instead. I had once brought this up with him.

Bruce, frowning and annoyed, told me, "Your parents have passed on; they wouldn't want me to break a promise to a friend over something so trivial. They're not like you; they wouldn't hold grudges."

Thinking back on this, I responded calmly, "They aren't here anymore; they won't mind."

When similar words came from my mouth, Bruce, despite his displeasure, was left speechless. "Just sign it," I urged, pushing the consent form toward him. Bruce was about to argue further when a startled shout came from the bathroom.

Instantly, he swallowed his words, picked up the pen, signed his name on the consent form, and rushed toward the bathroom with a look of urgency.

Looking at his signature on the form, I felt unexpectedly grateful to Nalani for conveniently diverting Bruce's attention. Otherwise, I'd have needed to come up with another excuse to deal with him. It was exhausting.

As I prepared to head back to the cemetery with the consent form, Bruce called out from the bathroom. "Raquel..."

I ignored him. Yet, he seemed determined to get a response, unwilling to let the matter drop. I hopped on one leg to the bathroom door and asked with a frown what he needed.

Bruce, looking tense, said, "Nalani twisted her ankle. Can you help me take her to the hospital?"

I glanced down at Nalani, wincing in pain, and chuckled softly. "Sorry, I'm not able to help."

Bruce immediately grew angry. "Raquel, now isn't the time to be jealous. Nalani is hurt; can't you stop being so petty?"

I interrupted impatiently. "My own leg isn't working either. If you can't manage, I'll call an ambulance for you."

Bruce mumbled, unable to find a retort, but his disapproval and disdain were obvious. After years of marriage, I knew he was annoyed that I couldn't help, and that his college junior had gotten hurt, which he somehow blamed on me. Seeing me stand still, he found an outlet for his frustration: "Then hurry up and call an ambulance! Why are you just standing there? Such bad luck."

"How did I end up marrying someone like you?"

Casually, I hopped out, picked up my phone, dialed 911, and then returned to the bedroom. After the ambulance took her away, I received a message from Bruce: "Since you dislike Nalani so much, I'll be staying at her place for the next few days."

"It'll give us both some space to cool off, and you can reflect on your issues."

Reading the message, I laughed. Bruce, as always, managed to shift the blame. In the past, seeing such words would have led to an immediate apology from me. I'd have hurried to the hospital to help care for Nalani, injury and all, just to prevent them from having time alone together.

But now, I felt free. Living alone wasn't so bad.