: Shattered Anniversary

The sharp smell of disinfectant rushed up Olivia’s nose as she hurried down the hospital corridor.

Cold white lights glared off the polished floor. Her flats slapped against the tiles, too loud in the quiet hallway.

It’s our anniversary.

The thought slid through her mind, absurd and out of place. Less than an hour ago, she had been at home in their warm apartment, setting the table for a candlelit dinner. Roasted chicken in the oven, a bottle of red wine breathing on the counter, candles waiting to be lit. She had even written a card and tucked it under Anderson’s plate.

Happy third anniversary.

She had glanced at the time on the stove and reached for her phone, expecting to see his name on the screen.

Instead, the caller ID had said: Mom.

Her mother’s voice had been shaking. Her father had collapsed at the company. The ambulance had rushed him to City Central Hospital. The doctors were already doing emergency surgery.

The taxi ride had been a blur of red lights and honking horns. She remembered staring out at the dark city while her fingers trembled over her phone, sending Anderson a single message.

Dad’s in emergency surgery. I’m going to the hospital. Call me.

No reply had come.

Now she turned a corner and spotted the red “Operating Room” sign glowing above the double doors.

Her mother was there, leaning against the wall outside, clutching a crumpled tissue in one fist.

“Mom!” Olivia hurried over and grabbed her shoulders. “What did the doctor say?”

“They said his heart is very weak,” her mother whispered. “They’re trying, but… they don’t know if he’ll survive the night.”

Olivia stepped closer to the small window and pressed her palm to the cool glass. Her father lay on the table under the harsh surgical lights, the blue drape pulled to his chest, wires running from his body while doctors and nurses moved around him. His face, always tanned and full of life, looked chalk-white; even his lips had lost their color. The strong hands that used to lift her onto his shoulders and fix anything that broke at home lay limp at his sides.

He had never looked small to her before.

In her mind he was always upright and unshakable, the one who stood in front of their family and never seemed to bend. Seeing him so still on that cold table made something twist hard in her chest. A cold, unfamiliar fear rose inside her.

What if he doesn’t wake up?

The thought lodged in her throat like a stone, and for a second her vision blurred. For the first time she felt the world might really keep turning without him in it, and the idea was so wrong it made her knees weak.

“Dad,” she breathed.

Her mother clutched her arm. “It’s all because of that company.”

“What do you mean?” Olivia asked.

“The company has been in trouble for months,” her mother said, taking a shaky breath. “Your father hid it from you. The debts kept building. The bank called, suppliers called. Today, a creditor came and threatened to sue, to take everything. Your father got so stressed he clutched his chest and collapsed.”

Olivia felt the floor tilt under her feet. “How bad is it?”

“I don’t know,” her mother said. “Enough that he said if he couldn’t solve it soon, we’d lose the house, the company, everything.”

“Why didn’t he tell me?” Olivia murmured.

“He said you’re married now,” her mother replied. “He didn’t want to burden you.”

In three years of marriage, she and Anderson had rarely talked about her parents’ finances. He ran one of the biggest companies in the city. Everyone said the same thing:

“You married into the richest family in the city. You’re very lucky.”

“Mom, listen,” Olivia said quietly. “Right now, the important thing is Dad’s surgery. The debts—we’ll figure them out later, okay?”

Her mother nodded, but her shoulders shook. “The hospital said if we want the best treatment and a room after surgery, it will cost a lot. We have to pay the deposit today.”

“How much?” Olivia asked.

Her mother told her. It was more than Olivia could pull together, even if she emptied every account she had.

Olivia took a slow breath. “It’s okay. Anderson can help.”

Her mother looked up, eyes red. “Will he… agree?”

“Anderson’s company has that kind of money,” Olivia said. “And I’m his wife. Dad is his father-in-law. He won’t just stand by.”

She squeezed her mother’s hand. “Stay here and wait for the doctor. I’ll go find Anderson.”

“You’re going now?” her mother asked, startled.

“Yes. The sooner we solve the money problem, the better.”

Her mother wiped her eyes. “Be careful.”

Olivia nodded, hugged her briefly, then hurried down the hallway. At the end of the corridor, she stopped and called Anderson.

The call rang for a long time before going to voicemail.

She hung up and tried again. Still no answer.

Fine. If he wouldn’t pick up, she’d go to his office herself.

Outside the hospital, the sky was fully dark. Olivia hailed a taxi and gave the driver the address of Anderson’s company. As the car moved through traffic, she stared out the window, fingers tight around her phone.

“Anderson will help,” she whispered. “He has to.”

When the taxi stopped in front of the tall glass building, it was already past eight. The company logo glowed above the entrance.

She paid the driver and stepped out into the cold air.

The lobby doors slid open as she walked in. The receptionist blinked in surprise, then straightened at once.

“Mrs. Gray,” the young woman said quickly. “Good evening.”

“Good evening,” Olivia said, forcing a small smile. “Is Anderson still upstairs?”

The receptionist glanced at the elevator. “He left a little while ago.”

“Left?” Olivia asked. “Did he say where he was going?”

“I’m not sure,” the receptionist replied. “He went out with Miss Ava Scott.”

The name hit Olivia like a stone to the chest.

Ava.

Anderson’s first love.

“Did they say anything?” Olivia asked, her voice thin.

“I only saw Mr. Gray holding the door for her,” the receptionist said. “They looked like they were in a hurry.”

“I see,” Olivia said quietly. “Thank you.”

She turned away, her mind buzzing. Maybe it was a business dinner, she told herself. Maybe it was work. Maybe she was overthinking, because she was tired, because today was awful.

She walked toward the entrance, fighting the tightness in her chest.

Through the glass doors, she saw Anderson’s car parked near the curb.

And Anderson himself, standing beside the passenger door.

Olivia stopped.

Ava stood next to him in a white dress and light coat. Even from a distance, Olivia saw the way Ava smiled up at him, eyes bright, cheeks slightly pink from the cold.

Anderson held the door open for her, one hand on the frame to shield her head as she bent down.

“Watch your head,” he said gently.

Ava laughed. “You’re always so careful.”

He smiled, the corners of his eyes softening. “Get in.”

She slid into the passenger seat. Anderson bent over, leaning in. Olivia watched as he reached across and pulled the seatbelt over Ava, clicking it into place.

Their faces were very close. Ava said something Olivia couldn’t hear, her lips curving into a teasing smile. Anderson chuckled, his shoulders relaxing, his expression warm in a way Olivia hadn’t seen in a long time.

Then he lifted a hand and brushed a loose strand of hair away from Ava’s cheek, tucking it behind her ear. Ava’s fingers caught his wrist for a second, light and familiar, before she let go.

The same warmth. The same easy intimacy.

The kind he had once reserved for Olivia.

Olivia stood frozen in the doorway, one hand pressed against the cool glass.

She had come to ask him to help save her father.

He was outside, carefully fastening another woman’s seatbelt, his attention entirely on her.

Anderson closed the passenger door with a soft thud and walked around to the driver’s side. He opened the door, leaned in to say something that made Ava smile again, then got in and started the engine.

Olivia did not move. She did not call his name.

She only watched in silence as the car pulled away from the curb, the taillights flaring red before merging into the stream of traffic and disappearing into the night.

: The Forgotten Wife

By the time Olivia got home, the candles on the table had burned down to stubs.

Wax had dripped onto the white tablecloth and hardened there. The roasted chicken was cold. The wine in the open bottle had lost its shine.

She dropped her bag on a chair and stood in the doorway of the dining room, staring at the scene she had prepared hours ago.

Happy third anniversary.

She had written those words on a small card and tucked it under Anderson’s plate. Now the card looked foolish.

Her phone lay cold in her hand. She checked it again. No new messages.

She thought of the image outside his company: Anderson leaning into the car, fastening Ava’s seatbelt with a soft smile.

Her stomach twisted.

Maybe it was work, she told herself. Maybe Ava’s family was talking business with him. Maybe…

Her thoughts tangled and broke. She pressed her fingers to her temples and took a breath.

Dad is in surgery. Focus on that.

She sat on the sofa and called the hospital. The nurse said the operation was still in progress. No news yet.

“Please… please save him,” Olivia whispered after hanging up.

The apartment was silent. The clock in the living room ticked loudly. Outside, the city hummed with cars and lights.

At nine o’clock, she checked the time and finally called Anderson.

The line rang several times before he picked up.

“What is it?” His voice was low and impatient. There was noise in the background—music, the clinking of glasses, people talking.

“Where are you?” Olivia asked. “When are you coming home?”

“I’m in a meeting,” he said at once. “Didn’t I say I might be late tonight? Don’t call me if it’s not important.”

Meeting?

Over the line, a bright laugh burst out—a woman’s laugh. It was light and sweet.

Olivia’s hand tightened around the phone.

“Anderson, is that…” she began.

“Who is it?” a woman’s voice asked in the background, playful and curious. Olivia recognized it at once.

Ava.

“No one important,” Anderson replied. His voice was closer, as if he had turned away from the phone. “Just a wrong number. Let’s continue.”

“Wrong number?” Olivia repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

He sighed. “Olivia, I really am in a meeting. Stop overthinking. I’ll come back when I’m done.”

“But—”

The line went dead. He had hung up.

Olivia lowered the phone slowly. The ticking clock sounded even louder now.

No one important.

She stared at the dark TV screen and saw her reflection in it—pale face, tired eyes, the faint smudge of makeup at the edge.

More than once, she had heard whispers behind her back.

“If Anderson had a choice, he would have married Ava.”

“They were in love for years before his father broke them up.”

“She’s just a stand-in.”

Olivia had laughed them off in front of people. “We’re fine,” she would say with a smile. “We’re happy.”

But late at night, when Anderson worked overtime or did not answer his phone, the same doubt always came back.

If Ava had come from a wealthy family… would he ever have married me?

Back in university, she had watched the two of them from a distance countless times. On warm afternoons they lay side by side on the campus lawn, sharing earphones, Ava laughing so loudly that people turned to look while Anderson reached over to quiet her with a helpless smile. In the library, where Olivia always chose the corner by the windows, she would see them at a nearby table, Ava sprawled over her notes while Anderson patiently explained a problem set, his head bent close to hers.

She had liked him even then—liked the way he frowned when he concentrated, the quiet steadiness under the easy charm. But Anderson already had a girlfriend, and Olivia had never been the kind of person who could step between two people who were in love. So she kept her distance, hugging her books to her chest as she walked past them, pretending not to hear their laughter.

Years later, after graduation, rumors spread that Anderson and Ava had broken up under pressure from his family. When her parents told her that the Grays wanted a marriage alliance and that Anderson was willing, she had agreed almost before they finished speaking. She told herself it was a sensible match, that any feelings she still had for him were carefully buried.

Only on nights like this did she wonder if she had really become his wife—or simply taken the place Ava had been forced to give up.

She shook her head, got up, and paced the living room. She called the hospital again. Her father was still in surgery.

Minutes stretched into hours.

At eleven o’clock, she tried Anderson again. This time he did not answer at all.

At one in the morning, she sent him a text.

Dad is still in surgery. Please call me back.

There was no reply.

She curled up on the sofa, hugging a cushion to her chest. Her eyes burned, but she could not sleep. Every time she closed them, she saw her father on the operating table, and Anderson fastening Ava’s seatbelt.

Sometime around three in the morning, she dozed off.

A loud noise woke her.

The front door opened with a heavy click, followed by the dull thump of shoes on the floor. A faint smell of alcohol drifted in.

Olivia pushed herself up, her neck stiff. The room was dim; only the lamp in the corner was on.

“Anderson?” she called softly.

He stopped in the hallway, eyes adjusting to the light. He loosened his tie with one hand, his expression dark when he saw her on the sofa.

“You’re still up?” he asked.

“I was waiting for you,” Olivia said.

He frowned. “It’s almost dawn. Why aren’t you sleeping? Do you have to make a drama every time I work late?”

She stood, holding the back of the sofa to steady herself. “You weren’t at the office,” she said quietly. “I went there earlier.”

“You followed me?” His eyes flashed. “Olivia, are you serious? Do you really have so much free time?”

“I didn’t follow you,” she said. “I went to look for you. At the hospital—”

“I told you I was in a meeting,” he cut in. “Why can’t you trust me for once? You call and call, like I’m some criminal you have to monitor.”

Her throat tightened. “I called because something happened,” she said. “Not because I wanted to monitor you.”

He tossed his suit jacket onto the armchair. “Every time I’m busy, you’re like this. Suspicious. Emotional. It’s exhausting.”

Olivia stared at him. For a moment, she almost forgot what she had wanted to say. Then she swallowed and forced her voice to stay calm.

“Do you know what day it was yesterday?” she asked.

Anderson froze.

He glanced at the cold dinner on the table, the burned-down candles, the wine bottle. His gaze landed on the small card by the plate. He picked it up and read the neat handwriting.

Happy third anniversary.

A muscle in his jaw moved.

“Our anniversary,” Olivia said. “I was setting up dinner when Mom called.”

Anderson lowered the card and rubbed his forehead. “I… forgot,” he admitted. “Things have been crazy at work. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” she said quickly. The word tasted bitter. “This isn’t about the dinner.”

He looked at her then, really looked. Her hair was messy. There were faint shadows under her eyes.

“What happened?” he asked, his tone softening a little.

Olivia took a breath. The words seemed to scrape her throat on the way out.

“Dad collapsed at the company,” she said. “He had a heart attack. He’s in City Central Hospital. Still in surgery.”

Anderson blinked. “What?”

“It happened this afternoon,” she went on. “The company’s debts… they’ve gotten out of control. A creditor went to his office and threatened him. The stress was too much. He clutched his chest and fell.”

Anderson’s brows drew together. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I tried,” she said. “I called. You said you were in a meeting.”

He shifted, as if the words made him uncomfortable. “How bad is it?”

“The doctor said his heart is very weak,” Olivia replied. “They’re not sure if he’ll make it through the night.”

A heavy silence settled between them.

Anderson sat down on the arm of the chair, his expression complex. “I didn’t know it was that serious,” he said.

Olivia nodded. “I know you didn’t.”

She took a step closer. “Mom used our savings and Dad’s insurance to cover the hospital deposit,” she said quietly. “For now, the doctors can treat him, and we’ll manage the medical bills.”

He watched her, waiting.

“But his company is falling apart,” she continued. “Even if he wakes up, there are debts, suppliers, banks… they’re all pushing. If we don’t do something, he could lose everything he built, everything he’s worked for his whole life.”

She folded her hands to keep them from shaking. Her voice grew almost pleading, though she tried to keep it steady.

“Anderson,” she said, lifting her eyes to his, “can you help us?”

He didn’t answer right away.

She went on, more quietly, as if afraid of scaring the moment away. “I know it’s a lot to ask. But your company is strong. You have resources. If you could lend Dad’s company the money it needs to get through this crisis… just enough to stabilize things and buy some time…”

Her words trailed off.

Anderson’s face was unreadable. His gaze dropped to the floor, then lifted back to her.

“Money for your father’s company,” he repeated slowly.

Olivia nodded. “Yes.”

The clock ticked again, filling the silence.

For the first time that night, it was not anger that made Anderson quiet, but something else.

He leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing as he thought.

Olivia held her breath, waiting for his answer.

: A Debt That Must Be Paid

Anderson did not answer at once.

He sat with his elbows on his knees, fingers laced, staring at the floor. The silence stretched until Olivia felt her heart beating in her throat.

“Anderson?” she said softly. “Did you hear me?”

“I heard you,” he replied.

He leaned back, loosened his tie, and looked at her. “How much are we talking about?”

Olivia told him the number. Saying it aloud made her palms sweat.

He let out a short, humorless laugh. “That’s not help. That’s a rescue.”

“I know it’s a lot,” she said quickly. “But the company isn’t hopeless. It just needs time. A bridge to—”

“Olivia.” He cut her off. “Your father’s company has been in trouble for years.”

“It has problems, but—”

“But nothing,” Anderson said, his tone turning cold. “I’ve seen the reports. His management is old. No clear plan, no new direction. You pour money into something like that, you don’t get it back. You just make the hole deeper. Honestly, he should have declared bankruptcy a long time ago, taken whatever dignity he has left, and enjoyed a quiet, peaceful old age. Instead he insists on playing the hero in an arena he was never any good at.”

“So you’re saying you won’t help,” she said.

“I’m saying,” he replied, “that from a business point of view, it makes no sense.”

“This isn’t just business,” she protested. “This is my father.”

He did not look moved. “Hospitals and doctors, fine. I can pay for that. But bailing out his company?” He shook his head. “I don’t run a charity.”

“I didn’t ask you to donate,” Olivia said. “I said lend. When the company recovers, he can repay you.”

“Recover?” Anderson repeated. “And what if it doesn’t? Then what? I just write it off?”

“If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t even have this company to protect,” she blurted.

His gaze sharpened. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Do you remember, before your first project, when all the banks turned you away?” she asked. “When your own father refused to give you money to ‘waste on some fantasy’?”

His expression changed slightly.

“You came to our house with your proposal,” she continued. “Everyone thought you were just a rich kid playing at business. No one believed you.”

“And?” he asked.

“And my father believed you,” Olivia said. “He looked at your plan and said you had vision. He mortgaged a property and gave you the money when no one else would. Without that, you would never have had the capital to start.”

He said nothing.

“He took a huge risk,” she went on. “If your company had failed, he would have been left with the debt. But he trusted you. Debts aren’t just numbers. He backed you when you were nothing. You can’t pretend that doesn’t matter.”

His jaw clenched.

“And now he needs help,” she said more quietly. “I’m not asking you to fix everything forever. I just want you to help him through this. He poured his whole life into that company. If it collapses like this, it will kill him even faster than his heart condition.”

He looked away.

“Please,” she said.

The word hung in the air. She rarely begged him.

“You’re asking me to throw millions into a company that might already be finished,” he muttered.

“I’m asking you to give the man who believed in you a chance to stand up again,” she answered.

Silence fell.

After a moment, Anderson exhaled. “I’ll think about it,” he said.

“There’s no time to think,” she said. “The hospital needs the deposit now. The creditors are already knocking. If you wait, there’ll be nothing left to save.”

“Don’t push me,” he snapped.

“I’m telling you how urgent it is,” Olivia replied.

He stared at her. Something in his expression shifted.

“I’ll have my finance team go over everything,” he said at last. “The hospital, the company—all of it. We’ll see what can be done.”

“So you’ll help?” she asked.

“I’ll help,” he said grudgingly. “To a point. I won’t hand over an endless stream of money. There have to be limits.”

Relief flooded her. For a heartbeat the floor steadied beneath her. If he was willing to step in, then he still saw her as his wife, not just a burden. Maybe three years of marriage weren’t just some long mistake. “Thank you,” she breathed.

He looked away. “Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “If the numbers are as bad as I think, there may not be much I can do.”

“It’s enough that you’re willing to try,” Olivia said. “I’ll tell Mom. She’ll be relieved.”

He picked up his jacket. “Go to bed,” he said. “You look terrible.”

“You should sleep too,” she replied. “You smell like alcohol.”

He snorted softly and went into the bedroom.

Olivia sent her mother a message.

Anderson will pay the hospital fees and try to help with the company. Don’t worry. Just stay with Dad.

Her mother answered at once.

Really? That’s such a relief. Tell him thank you.

Early the next morning, Olivia returned to the hospital. The hallway outside intensive care was quiet. Her mother sat on a bench, clutching a paper cup of cold coffee.

“Mom,” Olivia said.

Her mother jumped up. “Did he agree?”

Olivia nodded. “He’ll pay the hospital fees right away,” she said. “And his team will look at the company’s debts.”

Her mother’s shoulders slumped. “Thank God,” she whispered. “I was so afraid he would say no.”

“He remembers what Dad did for him,” Olivia said.

Her mother squeezed her hand. “We owe him so much.”

“Don’t think about that now,” Olivia replied. “How’s Dad?”

“The surgery ended at dawn,” her mother said. “They said it went as well as it could. He’s still in ICU. We can’t see him yet.”

“So he made it through the night,” Olivia said.

“For now. The next few days are important.”

“We’ll get through them,” Olivia said firmly.

They sat for a while. Her mother stared at the ICU doors.

“I feel so guilty,” she murmured. “If he hadn’t worried so much about the company, he wouldn’t have collapsed. And now we’re dragging you and Anderson into this.”

“Don’t say that,” Olivia said. “Dad worked his whole life for that company. He was never going to watch it die. And Anderson owes him. This is nothing compared to what Dad did.”

Her mother shook her head. “I’m afraid he’ll blame us. Men like him… money is more important than anything.”

Olivia’s phone buzzed.

An unknown number.

She stepped aside and answered. “Hello?”

No one spoke. A second later, the call ended, and a message arrived.

It was a photo.

A restaurant. Soft lighting. Candles. Two glasses of red wine. At the center, Anderson and Ava sat facing each other, smiling.

His tie was loose, sleeves rolled up. Ava leaned forward, chin on her hand. They looked relaxed. Close.

Another text followed.

Your marriage is already over. Be smart. Step aside.

Olivia stared until the letters blurred.

So that was his “meeting.” In a flash she understood: the help he’d promised tonight wasn’t gratitude to her father, it was compensation, a way to quiet his own conscience while he sat here with Ava by candlelight. The realization tasted bitter, like the end of something she hadn’t yet admitted was dying.

“Olivia?” her mother called. “Is something wrong?”

Olivia locked her phone, forcing a small smile. “Nothing,” she said. “Just a spam message.”

Her mother studied her face. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Olivia replied. She walked back and took her mother’s hand. “Listen. No matter what happens with the company, my relationship with Anderson won’t be affected. Dad didn’t ruin anything. Okay?”

Tears filled her mother’s eyes. “I’m so grateful you married into a good family,” she said. “At least you don’t have to worry about money.”

Olivia held her hand tighter and looked at the ICU doors.

Her lips were curved in a calm smile.

Inside, something deep had already cracked.