He Stands at the End of Memory

The next day at noon, a friend I had not seen in a while asked me to lunch. We sat across from each other, talking softly, and I tried to ease the gloom that had built up inside me.

But fate insisted on grinding away the last scrap of my dignity.

When I looked up, I suddenly saw two familiar figures.

Sebastian walked in front, tall and refined, his suit immaculate. Beside him, shoulder to shoulder, was Serena.

The instant our eyes met, Sebastian stopped short, surprise and a flicker of panic churning in his gaze.

Almost at once he came toward me, his words rushed, deliberately covering and explaining. "Vivienne, listen to me. I was at the office all morning. I just ran into Serena over lunch, that's all. We only happened to eat together."

Every line was forced, every word guilty.

Before I could speak, Serena gave a gentle little smile. "Vivienne, what a coincidence. If you don't mind, why don't you and your friend join us? It's livelier with more people."

With the moment at an impasse and no way to refuse, I gave a faint nod and moved with my friend to their table.

Before long a server came over carrying a tureen of scalding soup.

Just as the dish was about to touch the table, Serena rose, saying she was going to the restroom.

She swayed slightly, and her arm knocked against the server's wrist.

The boiling soup spilled out all at once.

It held nothing back. Half of it splashed across the back of Serena's hand, and the other half came down hard on my forearm and shoulder.

The searing pain shot through my skin at once, spreading in a raw, prickling wave. The fabric stuck to the burn, and the ache left my fingertips trembling.

But in the next instant, every bit of Sebastian's attention, all of his alarm, landed on Serena.

"Are you all right? Is it bad? Don't be scared, I'll get you to a hospital right now."

My friend froze, stunned, then quickly pulled out napkins to wipe the soup away, aching for me.

I looked down at the wide, red, burning wound on my arm and shook my head. The pain inside me had long since drowned out the pain of the burn.

So favoritism really could go that far.

Even though I was just as badly hurt, even though I was his lawful wife, in his eyes the smallest scratch on Serena was worth losing his composure over, while I could be covered in wounds and never deserve a single shred of care.

I bore the pain alone, and with my friend beside me went to the same hospital to have the wound treated.

After a careful examination the doctor frowned and said plainly that the burn was large and deep, that the skin was badly damaged, and that it needed dressing and rest to heal.

It was then that Sebastian, having seen to Serena's hand, finally showed up.

He must have caught the doctor's account and realized I was the more seriously hurt, because a faint trace of guilt finally crossed his face.

He came to my bedside. "Doctor, please take extra care. She's pregnant, so be cautious with any medication or treatment."

The moment he said it, the doctor was about to ask about the pregnancy and explain my condition.

My chest tightened. I reached out at once and lightly pressed the doctor's arm, shaking my head faintly to stop the rest of his words.

Once the wound was treated, I leaned back against the headboard and fell into a heavy sleep.

At midnight, the ward was utterly silent.

I woke with a start from a shallow sleep. The dark around me was still, and from the next room came low, hushed voices that drifted clearly into my ears.

"Serena, all these years I have never let you go. I was a fool before, a coward, too afraid to face my own heart, so I got by on Vivienne's shadow."

Serena's voice was reluctant and hesitant. "Have you really lost your mind? You have been married to Vivienne for three years. She depends on you, she loves you. How can you just let her go like that?"

"I'm thinking clearly."

Sebastian's voice was unshakable. "I only married her because she looks like you. These three years were a compromise, something to soothe an obsession. If you'll come back, if you'll stay with me, I'll divorce Vivienne right away, cleanly, and give you a real place in my life. For the rest of my days, there will be only you."

"The Don needs an heir. Once she has the child, I'll be with you, Serena."

Every word was sincere, every line final.

So my three-year marriage, my three years of love, had been nothing from beginning to end but the interval in which he waited for the woman he truly wanted to come back.

I sat quietly on the cold hospital bed, the burn on my arm throbbing in waves, though it was not a fraction of the pain in my chest.

I did not cry, and I did not make a scene.

I only lifted the blanket in silence and got out of bed.

The night was deep, the corridor cold and empty. Without a sound I turned and walked back to my own room, burying every absurd, heartless word deep inside me.

I did not sleep at all.

The next morning, just as it grew light, the door of my room was thrown open.

Sebastian rushed in, his face frantic, his eyes bloodshot, his whole body radiating menace and agitation.

He strode to my bedside and bent down, staring me dead in the eye, his voice cold and savage, full of accusation and suspicion. "Vivienne, did you do this?"

I lifted my eyes and looked at him calmly.

He clenched his fists, his eyes full of distrust and misplaced fury, every word sharp and cold. "You heard me and Serena last night. Did you turn bitter and hire someone to kidnap her on purpose?"

"I'm warning you." His expression was vicious, colder and more merciless than I had ever seen. "If anything happens to Serena, I don't care who you are, I don't care how much you love me, I will never let you off."