Chapter 1

1

I made the mistake of eating a slice of cake the intern had baked for my wife, Claire.

Claire frowned, disgusted. She dragged me to the hospital and forced the doctors to pump my stomach three times. The procedure was so violent it destroyed my stomach lining. To save my life, they had to perform a partial gastrectomy—removing two-thirds of my stomach.

Now, I survived on liquid diets. Within weeks, I was nothing but skin and bones.

Claire didn’t care. I watched her hand-feed steak to Rob, the intern, wiping sauce from his lip with her thumb.

When I asked her, eyes red and stinging, why she treated me this way, she looked at me with pure disdain.

"You ate the cake Rob made for me with his own hands. Consider this a lesson."

So, Rob was that important to her. And I was nothing.

Fine. If that’s how it is, I’ll leave. I’ll let them have each other.

…

After the surgery, my body was a wreck. Because I couldn't absorb nutrients properly, dizzy spells became my new normal.

I hadn't even fully recovered, yet I was alone in the office, working overtime to fix a critical error in the company's data. Suddenly, the incision site in my abdomen began to throb with blinding pain.

I scrambled for the painkillers on my desk, shaking the bottle. Empty.

The office was a tomb. Even security had clocked out for the night.

Desperate and sweating, I called Claire.

She hung up on me three times. On the fourth try, she finally answered.

"Claire... I... my stomach is burning. Please, can you bring me the prescription painkillers from the house?"

I was gasping for air, trying to talk through the agony.

Claire let out a sharp tsk. "You are unbelievable."

It was an emergency. The pharmacies were closed.

"Claire, please. Just this once."

There was a two-second silence. Then, Rob’s voice floated through the speaker, bright and mocking.

"Liam, come on. Why are you such a buzzkill? You had to pick my birthday dinner to bother Claire?"

"And the stomach thing? Your surgery was days ago. Can't you come up with a better excuse for attention?"

I gritted my teeth. "Claire, I’m only here working overtime to save your company’s biggest project. I just need the medicine. That’s it."

I knew the answer before she spoke, but a pathetic part of me still hoped.

I remembered when we first started dating. She had a high fever, 104 degrees. I ran through a thunderstorm to get her medicine, nearly getting hit by a car in the process. I never complained. I just wanted her to be okay.

Claire took the phone back. Her voice was ice.

"Rob is alone in this city. He has no family. He shouldn't spend his birthday alone."

"He’s just a kid, Liam. I’m celebrating with him. Your scar hurts a little? Grow up. It’s not life-threatening."

"But... it really hurts," I whispered. Cold sweat had soaked through my dress shirt.

"Figure it out yourself. Stop being a burden."

Click.

The line went dead. Another call with my wife, another knife in my back.

The pain was so intense I started dry heaving, clutching the trash can, but nothing came out except bile. The room spun.

Still, I forced myself to sit up. I hit 'Save' on the project proposal. This file was my life's blood—the result of months of grueling research.

The moment the progress bar hit 100%, my body gave out. I collapsed onto the office floor and blacked out.

I don’t know how long I lay there.

When I opened my eyes, morning sunlight was harsh against my face. The pain had dulled to a throb. I reached for my phone to call an ambulance, but a notification from Rob popped up on my feed.

Received the best gift ever. Thank you, Claire!