A Seat in the Corner

He never once tried to prove his love for us. Even our wedding rings were chosen by me.

No matter how hard I tried, he was never willing to give me even a shred of genuine devotion. And a marriage carried by one person alone is already doomed from the start.

Maybe our relationship was like that wedding photo hanging in the office. It should have been taken down a long time ago.

I went to an apartment that my parents had left me. That night, I slept more peacefully than I had in years.

At dawn, my phone dragged me out of sleep.

I picked it up and saw several missed calls from Jeremiah.

The moment I answered, his voice came sharp and impatient. "What stunt are you pulling now? Your office is completely cleared out. Didn't we agree to celebrate our anniversary together? I even prepared a gift. Where are you?"

His aggressive tone only irritated me. I hung up and tossed my phone aside.

I was already used to this—during my back-to-back ER shifts, on my birthday. On every day I needed him most, he disappeared the instant Yvonne called.

Then he'd return the next day carrying a gift, acting righteous, questioning me like I was the unreasonable one.

If I stayed cold, he'd soften just enough to coax me back.

It was always like this. One small gesture of kindness, and I would throw away my pride again, returning to being the shadow that revolved around him.

But this time, I was truly exhausted.

…

That evening after work, I saw him waiting outside the hospital entrance.

He had changed into a dark gray suit. He was tall and lean, his figure striking against the dusk. A few young nurses passing by couldn't help sneaking glances, whispering among themselves.

In the past, I would have rushed over immediately, afraid someone might look at him for too long.

He had a natural presence that drew attention. I was always afraid someone would steal him away. Looking back now, my worry hadn't been misplaced. I had just been guarding against the wrong person.

Now, when I looked at him, I felt nothing at all.

I walked straight ahead, ready to head home, when he suddenly called out to me.

"Queenie, Dr. Lloyd is treating us to dinner tonight. Come with me."

I didn't know why, but I agreed without thinking. Maybe I really was hungry.

Along the way, I kept catching faint whiffs of perfume on him.

It was Yvonne's favorite scent.

"When did you start wearing cologne?" I asked abruptly.

He paused, then answered, "I'm not wearing any."

I didn't say anything else. If he was telling the truth, it was even more ironic. It seemed they were inseparable to the point that even their scent was the same.

We spent the rest of the ride in silence until we arrived at the restaurant.

The moment Marcus Lloyd saw Jeremiah, his face lit up. "Jeremiah, you finally made it."

However, when his eyes landed on me, his smile froze. "Why are you—"

He didn't finish, but I knew exactly what he wanted to say.

Inside the private room, Marcus' friends all turned to look at me. Their expressions varied, but without exception, there was displeasure in their eyes because of my presence.

Marcus and Yvonne had been classmates in med school and were very close.

From the day Jeremiah brought me to meet them and announced we were together, Marcus had never liked me.

He thought I wasn't good enough for Jeremiah, that an ordinary doctor like me being together with Verdale's youngest cardiothoracic surgery expert was holding him back.

In the past, for Jeremiah's sake, I had always tried to get along with him.

I greeted him with smiles and tried to please him every time, but it never worked.

I kept wondering what I was doing wrong. Now, I realized it wasn't about me at all. They had already decided that Yvonne was the only person worthy of Jeremiah.

So I stopped performing.

I walked to the far corner, sat down, and opened my patient charts.

"Dr. Holloway, over here," Marcus called.

He guided me even farther away, then turned and seated Jeremiah beside Yvonne.

The Truth I Finally Saw

I knew he had done it on purpose.

Yvonne was wearing a champagne-colored gown. The moment Jeremiah sat beside her, her face bloomed into a dazzling smile.

The two of them quickly began discussing a recent difficult case. As they spoke, they leaned closer without noticing, voices lowering, shoulders almost touching.

Watching them laugh and chat, I was suddenly reminded of medical school. Back then, I used to discuss cases with him the same way.

In those days, he listened patiently to every idea I shared. He celebrated every correct judgment I made as if it were his own.

Now the light in his eyes belonged to someone else.

I stood up, ready to leave, when Jeremiah suddenly called after me. "Queenie, we haven't finished eating."

I let out a cold laugh. "Dr. Luthenstein, you and Dr. Zimmerman seem perfectly entertained. I won't interrupt."

With that, I turned and walked away.

Behind me, Marcus' mocking voice drifted over. "Dr. Holloway is still so aloof. No wonder Jeremiah would—"

I stopped and turned back.

"Dr. Lloyd, my personal matters are none of your concern," I said calmly. "As an attending physician, you'd do better spending this energy on your patients."

With that, I strode out of the private room.

Whispers followed me out the door.

I knew exactly what they were saying—that I was petty and that I couldn't stand to see my ex-husband and my former best friend happy together.

But they would never know what I had seen that night on our fifth wedding anniversary.

That evening, I had prepared a candlelight dinner. Instead, I saw Yvonne holding his hand, saying softly, "You're the most outstanding doctor I've ever met."

And he actually let her lean against his shoulder.

In that moment, everything finally made sense—why he always sought her out when a case grew difficult. Why he looked distracted when I shared my successes.

It turned out that, in his heart, I had never been a partner who could stand beside him.

I was just an ordinary doctor.

Yvonne, on the other hand, was a genius who could create miracles with him on the operating table.

…

When I got home, I opened the fridge and found it completely empty.

I had been so busy handing over my work that I hadn't even had time to buy daily necessities.

Just as I was about to order takeout, the doorbell rang.

Through the peephole, I saw Jeremiah standing outside, grocery bags hanging from both hands.

I had no intention of opening the door, but he took out a key.

I swore under my breath. I'd forgotten to take it back.

He pushed the door open and walked straight into the kitchen. "I noticed you hadn't eaten, so I picked up some food for you."

I watched him moving around in my kitchen, my gaze cold, and suddenly found the whole scene ridiculous.

"Jeremiah, do you really think this is appropriate?"

He stopped what he was doing and turned to look at me. "What's inappropriate? If you don't eat, how are you supposed to work?"

"That's none of your business," I replied flatly. "Give me the key."

He placed it on the dining table but made no move to leave. "Queenie, about what happened tonight—"

"That's enough," I cut him off. "We're divorced. You don't owe me explanations."

His eyes darkened. "Do you really hate me that much?"

I smiled. "Hate? Jeremiah, you're not even worth hating. You're just a liar—someone who's been deceiving me from start to finish."

He suddenly grabbed my wrist. "When did I ever lie to you?"

"You and Yvonne—"

"She's just a colleague."

"Is that so?" I sneered. "Because the two of you didn't look like 'just colleagues' on that rooftop."

He froze. "You saw?"

"So what if I did?" I shook his hand off. "Jeremiah, leave. I'm tired."

He stayed where he was. "Queenie, just listen—"

"There's nothing to hear," I said. "You two suit each other. I'm stepping out of the way. Enjoy your happiness."