Chapter 2

I ripped the medical tape off my arm and pulled out the IV needle.

Pressing down on the bleeding vein, I dragged my aching body through the discharge process and left the hospital.

The wind outside the hospital was freezing. I didn't bother calling that busy number again. I just took an Uber straight home.

When I pushed the front door open, Harris, who was supposed to be out "needing independent space," was sitting right there on the living room sofa.

The main lights in the living room were off.

Under the dim glow of the wall sconce, his brows were knitted tightly. There wasn't a single trace of worry on his face.

"Where have you been?" He looked me up and down.

"Did you go see that male coworker again?"

"Chloe, I gave you the silent treatment so you could reflect on your lack of boundaries, not so you could retaliate against me."

I stood in the entryway, my underwear already soaked with cold sweat.

I pulled out my phone, pulled up that poorly blurred screenshot, walked over, and tossed it onto the coffee table.

"0921. Thirty late nights. So, your 'space to think' was spent being Sophie’s exclusive listener?"

I thought he would panic, make up excuses, or frantically try to destroy the evidence.

But he didn't even change his posture. He glanced down at the screen, sighed, and turned his head away.

"Chloe, you spied on me. To look at me with such vulgar, dirty eyes... I'm so disappointed in you."

A sharp cramp in my stomach forced me to double over. I let out a cold laugh.

"I'm dirty? You shut me out for seven days, spending hours on the phone with another woman every single night."

"And now you're blaming me for not being noble enough?"

Harris stood up, walked over to me, and towered over me.

"Sophie has severe depression."

"As her former classmate, I am simply saving a life. It's an act of charity."

"What we discuss is the meaning of life and the struggles of the soul. It has nothing to do with anything else."

He raised his chin slightly and spoke.

"I didn't tell you because I knew you were narrow-minded and couldn't understand this kind of gender-transcending spiritual salvation."

"But I never expected you to stoop so low as to monitor me. You've stained the absolute purity between us."

With that, he snatched my phone and shoved it into his pocket.

"Confiscated for three days. Stay home, rest, and reflect."

"When you've washed the jealousy out of your brain, then you can go out."

He turned to leave. I reached out to grab my phone back. In our struggle, he grabbed my wrist.

The moment he felt my cold sweat and saw the ER discharge papers slipping out of my bag, his movements froze.

He snatched the papers. When he saw the words "acute gastric spasms," his eyes instantly turned red.

Dropping the phone, he threw his arms around me, holding me so tightly my ribs ached.

"You went to the hospital? Why didn't you tell me!"

"Chloe, I won't allow you to have a single scratch on you! You can only stay within my sight, do you hear me!"

His voice was trembling, his whole body shaking, as if the cold, accusing man from a second ago had never existed.

Leaning against his chest, my defensive walls wavered slightly.

He had always been like this during our five years of dating.

He cut off all my connections with the outside world, yet showered me with intense, suffocating affection.

Maybe he really was just trying to save a life. Maybe I really was being narrow-minded.

I was so starved for love that I had to rely on his borderline pathological possessiveness to convince myself I was loved.

Harris carried me to the bedroom, tucked me into bed, rolled up his sleeves, and went to the kitchen to cook my favorite pasta.

He blew on the pasta to cool it down and brought it to my lips.

"Good girl, take another bite. You're never allowed to run off on your own again."

"If you feel sick, tell me immediately. I'm your man."

I mechanically swallowed the warm pasta. Watching his attentive movements, my tense emotions eased a little.

Right then, his private phone on the coffee table lit up and buzzed twice.

A short text popped up on the lock screen:

[The weather is beautiful today, but I can't see the light. Not without you.]

The pasta in my throat instantly turned into a wave of nauseating disgust.