Chapter 3

When I opened my eyes again, I realized I was standing right in front of my own body.

I watched my lifeless corpse being wheeled toward the morgue. The doctors quickly dialed Ethan's number.

After several rings, Ethan finally answered, his voice dripping with irritation.

"Stop annoying me! I don't have time for this!"

The nurse said quickly, "Sir, your wife has passed away. We need you to come handle her body..."

Through the line, I heard a fragile, sweet voice call out in the background. "Ethan, my chest hurts."

Ethan replied softly, "Hang on, Chloe." Then his tone turned incredibly hostile.

"Nora, are you seriously acting out a death scene now? You even hired someone to play a nurse?"

"Don't try to stop me from treating Chloe. If you want to play dead, go ahead. Let's see if I shed a single tear for you!"

With that, he slammed the phone down.

As I stood there in a daze, a strange force suddenly pulled my soul away.

When I regained consciousness, I was standing right in front of Ethan.

I blinked, looking around, and realized this was Ethan's private laboratory.

It was equipped with the most advanced medical tech and medicines in the country.

I had begged him to let me stay here because the equipment could help manage my symptoms.

But Ethan had dismissed my plea with disgust. "The lab is off-limits to outsiders."

Without proper medical equipment, I spent the last two weeks of my life in endless, agonizing torture.

By the time I died, my body was painfully emaciated, my cheeks sunken, looking like a hollow shell of myself.

And my own husband wouldn't even come to claim my body.

Yet here, Chloe was lying comfortably on a sterile hospital bed, surrounded by a team of professional nurses. She looked pale and fragile, like a delicate hothouse flower.

Chloe was never an "outsider" to Ethan.

Chloe looked up at Ethan, her eyes crinkling with a sweet smile. "Thank you, Ethan. If it weren't for you, I probably wouldn't have made it today..."

Ethan shook his head, gently stroking her hair.

"Just focus on resting. The staff here are my most trusted colleagues. You'll get better in no time."

Sensing the heavy romantic tension between the two, the colleagues laughed and teased them.

"Dr. Carter, you and your wife are so sweet together."

"Seriously, you're making all us single folks jealous!"

Chloe's cheeks flushed pink, but she didn't correct them.

Neither did Ethan.

They just looked at each other and shared a knowing smile.

I instinctively wanted to run away, but an invisible force bound me to Ethan's side.

I was forced to watch my husband of five years play the doting spouse to his childhood friend.

When my organ failure was at its worst, I could feel my body shutting down piece by piece.

But that terror was nothing compared to the agony of watching this.

How pathetic.

I had endured years of agonizing side effects for Ethan, only for Chloe to effortlessly steal all the credit.

And my husband never believed a single word I said.

I suppose when I first told him I was sick, he didn't take me seriously at all.

Otherwise, how could he have been so calm?

Compared to his current panic over Chloe, Ethan had always been chillingly indifferent to anything concerning me.

I thought five years of love and quiet sacrifice would eventually melt his cold heart. But the truth was, Ethan's heart only beat for the girl he truly loved.

Ethan cleared his throat, his voice returning to its usual professional tone.

"Alright, everyone get back to work. I'll take it from here."

The colleagues let out a chorus of knowing chuckles before leaving the room.

Ethan sat on the edge of Chloe's bed. "How are you feeling today? Any discomfort after taking the medicine?"

Chloe shook her head, playfully sticking her tongue out. "Any drug developed by the brilliant Dr. Carter is bound to be perfect."

Ethan chuckled softly. Chloe seemed to remember something and said, "By the way... we haven't heard from Nora since she confronted us last time. Have you explained things to her? We're just doctor and patient."

Ethan's face darkened, but he kept his voice patient. "There's nothing to explain."

"It's her own issue. Don't worry about her. Just focus on recovering."

Of course. In his mind, there was never anything to explain. I was always just the crazy, jealous wife throwing a tantrum.

Ethan reached into his bag. From my vantage point, I saw him pull out a second, identical phone.

But this phone had been dead for a while.

He plugged in the charger, and after a few minutes, the screen lit up.

Instantly, a flood of missed calls and Snapchat notifications popped up.

They were all from me—calls I had made and messages I had sent since I was hospitalized.

There were also missed calls from the hospital notifying him of my death.

Ethan had two identical phones.

One was just to deal with me, while the other was his actual phone for daily life.

His main phone had his research, Chloe's contact info, and his real life.

Compared to his main phone, the one dedicated to me was practically barren.

I was just like that second phone—never truly integrated into Ethan's life.

I was always kept at a distance.

And whenever Ethan wanted a break, he could simply turn it off, shutting me out of his world entirely.

Because to him, I was utterly insignificant.