Chapter 5

The loud pops of New Year's Eve fireworks woke me up.

The heater had turned off at some point, and my head felt like it was filled with lead.

I felt freezing cold, but when I touched my forehead, it was burning hot. I had a fever.

The hallway was quiet. Ethan's scarf and hat were tangled in a heap on the floor. One of his gloves lay lonely near the door.

He hadn't come back.

I let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. Even now, was I still holding onto some pathetic shred of hope?

It was past midnight. It was officially New Year's Day. Just six more days until my transfer.

Dragging my heavy limbs, I boiled some water to take some fever medicine.

But I couldn't find the first-aid kit anywhere.

As a doctor, I kept a well-stocked kit, and Ethan had always been very attentive about it.

"You work too hard, Claire. You never take care of yourself. If you don't worry about your body, I will. I put two first-aid kits in the house. Common cold meds, fever reducers—everything is in there. I don't want you working at the hospital all day just to end up as a patient."

Ethan had told me the first-aid kit was right in the cabinet by the entrance, where I could see it the moment I opened the door.

"But it's okay if you forget. You have me. I will never let you suffer alone when you're sick."

I pulled the cabinet doors open violently, throwing aside the junk. But it wasn't there.

The high fever scrambled my brain. I forgot I could just order delivery on my phone. I was stubbornly obsessed with finding that missing kit.

Not in the living room.

Not in the kitchen.

Not in the bedroom.

Where was it? How could it just vanish?

My eyes ached, and I wanted to cry, but not a single tear would come. My hands shook uncontrollably.

Right. The study. There must be one in the study.

As soon as I walked into the study, I heard faint whispering. It sounded like it was coming from the other side of the wall.

My fever-addled brain told me this was impossible.

The study was a room Ethan had personally remodeled. He had used the highest-grade soundproofing materials. He used to brag that we could throw a wild party in here and the neighbors wouldn't hear a thing.

I remembered how smug he looked back then.

"We can play some spicy games in here, babe. I promise no one will hear you scream."

Against the wall facing the door stood a massive, custom-built wooden bookshelf, packed with heavy books.

I had once teased him about buying books just for show.

But as I stepped closer, the voices became clearer.

"Ethan, are you sure you don't want to go back? Claire looked furious. Maybe you should check on her."

"It's fine. Claire is easy to handle. Leo has a fever, and I can't leave him like this."

I held my breath and pushed the heavy wooden bookshelf.

It swung open easily.

The wall behind it was gone.

In its place was a hidden, carpeted doorway leading into the apartment across the hall.

Their home was beautifully decorated, warm and cozy. Every sharp corner of the furniture was wrapped in baby-proof foam.

On the dining table stood a framed family portrait. A handsome father, a gentle mother, and a happy little boy. What a perfect, cozy little family.

And everywhere I looked, there were signs of Ethan's daily life.

His favorite mug, his preferred tea leaves, his casual jacket thrown over the chair.

So this was what lay on the other side of the wall.