After the dinner, Zoe tentatively sent Evan a message .
No reply came
Her gaze lingered on the predominantly green chat interface, lost in thought.
Lately, Evan barely responded to her messages, but she knew he read them – he simply chose not to answer.
Before bedtime, she decided to send Evan another message, hoping to clarify things.
"When are you coming back? It's better for us to deal with our issues sooner rather than later."
To her surprise, the phone indicates that there is a new message.
She hurriedly activated her mobile phone."Mrs. Sterling, he's not coming home tonight.Continuing to pester him is pointless., he doesn't love you anymore, don't you understand? A woman should have self-respect; don't be so humble for love, okay?"
Zoe froze.
Those few lines, short as they were, burned deeply into her heart.
She meticulously read the message over and over again and then, with a sense of defeat, put down her phone.
Evan, you're ruthless.
She lay down decisively, cocooning herself in the blankets, forcing back the tears that threatened to surface.
I've cried the most for Evan in this lifetime, Zoe thought.
In school, she was a model student, often held up as an example, the pride of her teachers and parents.
Her parents cherished her, unwilling to let her shed a single tear.
Yet, she had been ignorant, a thankless child, forsaking her parents and everything for a heartless man.
Karma, it seems, has made her deserving of being discarded too.
Zoe's eyes snapped open, and she suddenly sat up, slapping herself twice with a resounding force that echoed in the quiet room.
Unhesitant, the stinging in her palms numbed, but she paid it no heed, hugging her knees as she sobbed.
Her hands hurt, her face hurt, but neither compared to the ache in her heart.
The next morning, Zoe woke up groggily, struggling to open her sore eyes.
Glancing in the mirror, she confirmed her suspicions: her face was swollen.
Reluctantly, she applied ice to reduce the swelling until it has reduced in swelling..
After breakfast, she went for her IV drip.
Finding the procedure tedious, she half-closed her eyes to rest.
Her phone rang, and seeing Evan's name, she frowned before answering.
His contact name used to be "husband," but she had changed it recently.
"Where are you?" he asked.
"At the hospital."
Evan coldly acknowledged with an "Oh," seemingly indifferent to her hospital visit.
"Mom and Dad, and my sister, are coming over tomorrow. Get everything ready."
She had expected him to mention the divorce, but he avoided the topic altogether, showing remarkable restraint.
Zoe responded with a simple "Mm," ending the call without further discussion.
Her persistently poor complexion, unnaturally pale, had begun to worry her doctor.
Edward, as usual, inquired, "Is your stomach still hurting?"
She shook her head.
"How about bloating?"
Another shake, her expression blank.
Edward frowned uncontrollably, thinking that if not for her open eyes, her lifeless demeanor would resemble that of a corpse.
Curiosity nagged at him—what could turn a person into this state?
While lowering his head to wrote her medical record, he couldn't help but glance up at her.
Zoe turned her gaze to the sun outside the window, finding its brightness unbothering.
It had been ages since such pleasant weather; usually, it was neither sunny nor rainy.
Snapping back to reality, Edward found her responding to his questions with mere nods and shakes, like a soulless puppet.
Her distant gaze prompted Edward to ask impulsively, "Are you feeling unwell anywhere else?"
Instantly, her eyes reddened completely.
