Even Sophia Merrick, my mother-in-law, called to check on me.

"Bella, that boy is blind. Don't be upset. Arthur doesn't deserve you."

"It’s because we weren’t right for each other," I replied, my voice flat, wanting nothing more than to end the conversation.

Sophia had always been kind to me, but that kindness was rooted in the fact that I was her son's wife. I knew my place, and I wouldn’t stoop to insulting Arthur just to please her.

"Then… will you still come by for your massages every month?" Sophia asked tentatively.

She suffered from rheumatoid arthritis, and during the rainy season, the pain could keep her awake all night.

I came from a family of doctors, and I had learned some massage techniques from my grandfather. I could help ease her pain. But maybe, feeling a bit guilty herself, Sophia quickly added, "I can pay you, even three times the normal price, if you want."

I sighed softly, my tone distant. "Aunt Sophia, I'm not a professional masseuse. With that money, you could hire someone far better."

"No, I can't bear to part with you," Sophia said, her voice trembling slightly.

"You've been more considerate than my own son. These years, it's been you taking care of me. You’re almost like a daughter to me…"

I felt my eyes well up.

I’d never known my mother. Here, with Sophia, I could feel what it might have been like. But it was time to let go. False affection was still false. Dreams, no matter how beautiful, eventually end. And now, my dream had ended.

I didn’t like lingering with my ex-husband’s family. If I was going to cut ties, I would do so completely.

A week later, Arthur showed up at the hospital.

He was fuming, his face red with anger.

"Aren’t you a doctor? Aren’t you supposed to save lives? Why are you refusing to treat my mother?"

The hospital was packed. Several patients had already started glancing our way. A nurse quietly asked if I wanted her to call security.

I smiled faintly and set my pen down.

"If Aunt Sophia came to the hospital for treatment, of course, I wouldn’t turn her away," I said calmly. "But if you're asking me to go back to how things were before, then I’m sorry, I can’t do that."

I met Arthur’s gaze directly. "I’m not obligated to provide home service."

Just then, Clara arrived, wearing that look—the one that told me she’d finally figured me out.

"But I heard that Sophia treated you so well. You can’t just take it out on her because of the divorce," Clara said, her tone accusing.

"And Arthur and I didn’t betray you. We got together after your divorce," she added, almost smugly.

Yes. After Arthur and I divorced, he and Clara seamlessly stepped into a relationship. On the day of the divorce, they made their romance public. It was as though they wanted to announce to the world that they were perfect for each other.

And I… I found myself crying one night, torn apart with emotions. I opened Instagram over and over, looking at their posts. They traveled together, attended national tours… doing all the romantic things I had once dreamed of doing with Arthur.

In their pictures, Arthur would make silly faces with Clara. But when it was me, he would call me childish.

Our mutual friends, who had initially criticized Arthur for being irresponsible in our marriage, gradually started urging me to let go. They said I should accept that Arthur was chasing his true love.

"Whether or not he wronged me isn't for you to decide," I said, my voice as cold as ice as I closed the medical file.

"And when you two started your relationship, does it even matter?" I added, locking eyes with Arthur.

"During our marriage, you two were already spending time together, seamlessly transitioning… and you still think you have a clear conscience?"

The room fell silent. You could hear a pin drop.

Arthur looked at me, stunned, clearly not expecting me to strike back with such sharp words.

A few seconds later, murmurs began to circulate.

"Isn't this cheating?"

"The way they just slipped into it is disgusting. If it was that seamless, they must've had something going on before."

"So, they're the douchebag and the mistress?"

"These two seem familiar... are they dancers?"

Realizing what was happening, Arthur quickly stepped in, pulling Clara into his arms, blocking us from prying eyes.

Arthur turned, casting me a complicated and reproachful look.

At that moment, a nurse’s voice echoed down the hallway, urging us to hurry.

I waved my hand toward Arthur. "You two should go now."

Through the glass door, I saw their frustrated and unwilling expressions.

But I had already moved on, flipping open the next patient file.

After that incident, it felt like Arthur had declared war on me.

His and Clara's love story seemed to find a way to reach my ears every day, in some new, ridiculous form.

The surgical lights in the operating room flickered on at dawn.

I gripped the scalpel, listening closely to the rhythmic beeping of the monitors.

When the surgery ended, I took a quick break and checked my phone.

Once again, Arthur and Clara had updated their status.

On stage, they danced a flawless duet together.

Arthur lifted Clara and twirled her.

The camera froze on the moment their gazes met.

The caption read: "The soul of a duet is trust, and love."

The comments were flooded with "Lord Arthur & Lady Clara, forever our icons."

Many even asked when they'd get married.

Clara replied to one, saying, "We’ll wait until we win an international gold medal."

I shut off the page.

But, despite myself, I couldn't shake the words Arthur had once said.

He'd told me, "One day, I want to stand with you on that award stage, and tell the world you're my wife."

But now, everything had changed.

It was at that moment that a nurse burst into the room.

"Dr. Carver, there’s a patient outside, and they’ve insisted you see them personally."

The nurse's voice broke my train of thought.

I opened the door and saw Arthur holding Sophia up, both looking desperately at me.

Sophia’s face was pale, her knee swollen and shiny, barely able to stand.

As soon as she saw me, her eyes welled up with tears.

"I know I shouldn’t bother you, but the massage therapist at home is too rough, and I only trust you..." she began.

I cut her off, avoiding her gaze. "Please, go wait at the payment desk."

Arthur’s gaze never left me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the lingering affection and frustration in his look.

He stepped closer, reaching out to grab me.

I swiftly sidestepped him.

"Bella..."

"Mr. Harlow." My voice was icy. "Since you're here for treatment, please follow the proper procedures."

Arthur’s pupils constricted.

"Wait, you’re calling me Mr. Harlow? You used to call me honey..."

I stared at him, baffled.

What the hell was he on about now?

We’re divorced—does he seriously think honey is still appropriate?

But before I could respond, he switched gears.

"That’s right, Clara and I are deeply in love."

I stared at him, confused.

Not sure why he was going on about that. Who even asked?

When the test results came in, I saw that Sophia’s condition had worsened due to her reckless decision to stop taking anti-inflammatory medication.

I couldn’t understand why she would do that.

Arthur stood in front of me, staring at my name tag, his throat moving as he spoke.

"You used to personally adjust her medication, you could..."

"Rheumatic bone disease isn’t a major issue. The patient’s details are in the system; any attending doctor can handle this." I interrupted him.

But then, suddenly, Arthur smiled.

"Bella, I really can’t sense any love from you anymore—except for that time when you got jealous and caused a scene because of Clara."

"Other than that, I feel like I’m just another person to you."