Chapter 1

On the day my physical therapist husband, Ethan, got promoted, I received a photo from a coworker.

In the therapy room, Ethan was holding his ex-girlfriend's waist. They were staring into each other's eyes, and he was leaning over her, pinning her down on the table.

I printed that photo out and placed it on the nightstand.

Late that night, Ethan came home smelling of sweet orange blossom cologne. He froze when he saw the photo on the nightstand, but quickly recovered and started explaining.

"Avery, you know this is just my job."

"The area where she feels pain is very sensitive. I had to find the exact angle to apply pressure. This photo is just a bad camera angle."

I pulled the blanket tighter around myself.

"Okay. Go to sleep. You still have to do her pelvic alignment therapy tomorrow."

He looked surprised. "You don't mind?"

I shook my head.

He just couldn't let go of his first love. It was fine. I happened to have one of my own, too.

Seeing that I had nothing more to say, Ethan went to take a shower.

The posture in that photo didn't look like physical therapy at all. It looked like an embrace.

The photo was sent to me by Mia, a nurse in the physical therapy department. We had interned at the hospital together.

She had only attached one sentence.

"Avery, I'm not trying to stir up drama, but Dr. Ethan has been doing this every single day for the past six months."

After his shower, Ethan walked over, sat on the edge of the bed, and reached out to ruffle my hair.

"Avery, Chloe's lower back injury is serious. Ordinary physical therapy doesn't work for her. I have to get close to find the right trigger points."

"I was just treating a patient."

I turned my head to avoid his hand and stared at the ceiling. "I know."

"She's a prima ballerina. Her rehearsals have been intense lately, and her lower back muscles are spasming again. I don't trust any other therapist to handle it."

"I know."

"You know my skills. I'm the best in the department."

I finally turned my head and offered a faint smile.

"I know, Dr. Ethan. You're a saint."

He continued to justify himself.

"She and I broke up a long time ago. We're just regular friends now."

I didn't reply. I knew exactly how deep their history ran.

Since Chloe returned to the country two years ago, she had never truly left his life.

She strained a muscle during rehearsal, her old injuries flared up, she couldn't sleep and needed him to come over for a massage.

On the night we went to the courthouse to sign our marriage license, she sent a Snapchat at 11 PM. "My back is locked up again! I can't move! It hurts so bad!"

Ethan had just taken off his coat. After reading the message, he didn't say a word and tied his sneakers back on.

I stopped him. "Does it have to be tonight?"

"She's alone in her apartment. No one is there to take care of her."

I sat on the edge of the bed and lowered my head.

He leaned down and tucked the blanket around me.

"I'll be back soon. I'll take you to get our courthouse wedding photos tomorrow morning."

He didn't return until three in the morning.

There was a trace of orange blossom massage oil on his collar. He explained that it "rubbed off while massaging her."

I didn't throw a tantrum. I didn't argue. I just remembered the date.

Every time Chloe was brought up, he would always say, "She's my patient. It's my job."

The more fragile she acted, the more patient he became.

The more demanding she was, the harder it was for him to say no.

Everyone said they had never truly broken up. I, his legal wife, felt like a mere prop in their love story.

Ethan wanted to say something more, but his phone buzzed.

He glanced at it, his expression changing slightly, and silenced it.

"It's probably her. She gets anxious before big shows."

I closed my eyes. "Answer it. In case she can't sleep again tonight and ruins her rehearsal tomorrow."

He didn't answer. He placed his phone face down on the nightstand, turned around, and pulled me into his arms.

"Don't overthink it, babe. She and I are ancient history."

I didn't hug him back.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen, as if someone had pinched me from the inside.

I frowned but didn't say a word.

Even if I told him, he wouldn't care right now anyway.