“Chloe, you need to come to the hospital. It’s Simon… he got into a fight at a bar tonight, and now he’s in the emergency room. He was unconscious, but the whole time, he kept calling your name.”
I was standing at a jewelry counter in a department store, picking out a watch for Noah.
Without missing a beat, I handed the one I chose to the sales associate. “This one, please. Thank you.”
There was a brief silence on the other end of the line.
“Chloe? Are you listening?”
I turned, leaning back against the counter. “If he’s still in the ER, then you guys should stay with him. I’m not a doctor. I can’t
save him even if I go.
“And one more thing–don’t ever call me about Simon again. I don’t care.”
With that, I ended the call.
After paying for the watch, I left the store in a good mood.
On the way home, I even stopped by the supermarket to pick up groceries.
Noah was coming back tonight.
I wanted to cook for him myself.
Around seven, the doorbell rang.
I rushed out of the kitchen to open the door with a smile.
But the moment I saw who was standing there, my smile froze.
It was Noah’s mother, Grace White.
The living room was eerily silent, the only sound was the rhythmic tick–tock of the clock on the wall.
Grace sat on the sofa, idly twisting the massive diamond ring on her middle finger as her sharp gaze swept over the room, taking in every detail.
I carefully poured a glass of warm water and set it down on the coffee table in front of her.
“Miss Sanders, have a seat. We need to talk.”
Her presence was commanding, leaving little room for argument.
I lowered myself onto the sofa across from her, my hands stiff in my lap, feeling uncharacteristically uneasy.
Without a word, she reached into her orange Hermès bag and pulled out a document, sliding it toward me.
“This is Noah and Sharon’s marriage
certificate.”
