Dead to Her, Dead Inside

Meghan hung up at the next second.

As expected, even when trying to comfort me, she was perfunctory at best.

I couldn't help looking up at the white ceiling. The emotions I'd been holding back suddenly broke free, and tears streamed down my face.

Meghan and I met in our freshman year of college. We eventually got engaged right after graduation.

Our love story began on campus and continued all the way to the altar. It was the kind of relationship many people envied.

We truly enjoyed eight years of sweet times together. We supported and tolerated each other through thick and thin. Even when we argued occasionally, I always firmly believed we'd grow old together.

Was it not absurd that the woman I loved so deeply could love another, after merely eight short years?

She was even carrying that other man's child. Yet, she still insisted on pretending to be my devoted wife.

…

Not long after, I underwent the skin graft surgery. I was especially grateful as the hospital hadn't let Meghan know about my condition.

After the operation, my arm was hooked up to a pain pump. I lay on the gurney, completely drained. Even opening my eyes felt like a difficult task.

I was utterly weak.

The nurses wheeled me back to the room. However, I didn't expect to be stopped outside my own ward. All the belongings I'd had with me when I was admitted were now messily thrown outside the door.

Anger surged in my chest, and I demanded an explanation in a cold voice.

The nurse on duty stepped forward to explain.

"I'm sorry, but this is a VIP ward. The senior management of the private hospital has the right to decide who can stay in VIP wards. Ms. Hudson is one of our shareholders. Her boyfriend likes rooms with morning sunlight. I'm afraid you'll need to move to another ward, per Ms. Hudson's instruction."

So, this was Meghan's doing?

Yesterday, during the earthquake, all she could see was her new lover. Her heart, her love, and even her child all belonged to him. Did she really have to give him my ward, too?

Wasn't there sunlight in other rooms? Why did it have to be mine?

A surge of fury rushed through me. Holding onto the door frame, I forced my weakened body off the gurney. I picked up my belongings and staggered into the ward.

The moment I stepped in, I saw Gerald lounging on my hospital bed, his legs crossed leisurely.

When he saw me, he wasn't the least bit surprised. Instead, he raised an eyebrow and flashed me a smug smile.

"Julian, the light in this room really is nice. Meghan already arranged everything for me. You can leave now," he said.

My name was on the door of the ward. I didn't believe he chose this room simply because it had ample sunlight.

His smile was full of provocation. I figured he had to know about my relationship with Meghan. He was flaunting it in my face on purpose.

"Gerald, Meghan and I are married. Aren't you afraid that getting involved in our relationship will ruin both your career and hers if word gets out?" I warned him.

I thought he might back off, but he merely scoffed. "Getting involved? That sounds too harsh."

He retorted, "Meghan and I grew up together, so our bond runs deep. Yesterday, in a moment of life and death, she chose me over you. That proves I'm more important than you are.

"The one who isn't loved is the third wheel. The person who should leave is you, Julian." He continued to provoke me.

Without hesitation, I swung my fist at him. He clutched his nose, glaring at me furiously. The rage inside me kept building regardless.

"Get out!" I roared.

Gerald glared at me and snapped, "Why should I leave? Your hand is so badly injured. You can't even work, let alone make Meghan happy. What right do you have to call yourself her husband? Who do you think you are?"