8 Times Almost a Wife

The next morning, Ian left early.

No surprise there. He was likely on his way to pick up Jess and visit his grandfather.

I washed my face, slipped on a mask, and headed out to find a new place to live. This apartment belonged to Ian, and I was ready to move out.

While on the way to meet the landlord, I couldn't resist the urge to check Jess's Instagram.

There it was—a photo of her, Ian, and an elderly man.

The caption read: [Family Portrait.]

The comments beneath were a sea of congratulations and blessings.

Even though I'd already known about this last night, the moment I saw the photo, a heavy weight settled on my chest. I couldn't breathe.

I stared at the screen blankly until the taxi driver reminded me we'd arrived.

Before closing the app, I gave the post a like and left a comment: [Wishing you all the best.]

The apartment viewing went smoothly. The place was in a good location—right next to a hospital.

Not long ago, I'd passed the nursing certification exam and had just been hired by that very hospital.

Originally, I'd planned to share the good news with Ian today. But now, it seemed unnecessary.

After putting down a deposit, I headed home to start packing.

I hadn't expected to run into Ian and Jess outside the hospital.

They were walking hand in hand, fingers tightly interlocked.

To be more accurate, it was Jess who spotted me first.

Without a trace of hesitation, she tugged Ian along and walked right up to me, her tone laced with mock sweetness.

"Daphne, you're here too? Did you come with Ian? You should go up and say hi to Grandpa!"

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Wait—don't tell me you came without telling Ian?"

A flicker of panic crossed Ian's eyes. He took a half-step forward, subtly shielding their joined hands, then quickly let go.

But Jess's reminder must've touched a nerve. The panic turned to anger as he looked at me, his eyes suddenly sharp.

"What are you doing here? I don't recall telling you where I'd be."

His expression darkened, and then it twisted into something meaner. His eyes locked onto me like I'd committed a crime.

"Daphne, are you following me?"

He stepped closer, forcing me to take a step back. His face was stormy.

Without warning, one hand grabbed my arm, and the other yanked off my mask.

"Look at yourself. You look terrible. Instead of staying home and resting, you're out stalking me? I told you, didn't I? Once your face heals, I'd bring you here. What's the point of sneaking around like this now?"

Every word from his mouth was an accusation. There wasn't even a pause to hear my side of things.

People walking by slowed, their eyes drawn to the bruises on my swollen face. Shame flooded me. I could only raise my right hand to cover part of it and clench my jaw, forcing myself to respond.

"I wasn't following you."

"Oh, really?" he barked. "Then what are you doing here?"

His eyes were blazing. He looked like he wanted to devour me.

"Don't tell me you came to the hospital for that little bruise. Or are you dying of some illness you haven't told me about?"

His words hit like a punch to the chest, a dull, suffocating pain spreading through me.

But I wasn't about to tell him anything.

Not about the new place I just rented.

Not about the job offer from this hospital.

None of it.

I stood there, silent, as he hurled his accusations.

"Nothing to say now? Daphne, you always piss me off. If you'd just said you wanted to see Grandpa, do you think I would've said no? And now you're stalking me? What next? Want me to send you a report every time I leave the house?"

I stood frozen, stunned. My heart was full of things I could no longer find the words to say.

Every time I'd asked to visit his grandfather, he'd come up with a hundred excuses to turn me down, just like he always found excuses to delay our wedding. And now, somehow, I was the villain.

I took a deep breath, pushing down the sting behind my eyes, refusing to let the tears fall.

I stared straight at Ian, my voice steady. "Believe what you want. But I wasn't following you."

Then, without waiting for a response—without caring about the flicker of surprise in his eyes—I flagged down a cab and left.

But the moment I sank into the seat, the tears came. Silent and endless.

'That's it,' I thought. 'Let them have each other.'