Chapter 2

Dad set down his fork, reached over, and pulled me back toward my seat.

"What nonsense is this? You two are always busy with work. You barely sat down, and now you're leaving..."

Toby chewed on his drumstick, his mouth full, and interrupted with a teasing grin. "Oh, Dad, Mom, you don't get it! Chloe is just worried about Julian. She’s rushing to the hospital to keep him company!"

Hearing that, Dad let go of my arm.

"Right, that makes sense. Hospitals are cold and gloomy. It’s good for him to have someone by his side."

He told Mom to pack up the leftovers into containers for me to take.

When I stepped out of the building, I walked straight to the dumpster and dropped the heavy bag of food inside.

Julian didn't need my company. Someone else was already holding his hand.

If I showed up, I would only be an unwelcome nuisance.

Getting into my car, I pulled a crumpled piece of paper from my purse. I stared at the diagnosis for a long moment, then tore it into shreds.

By the time I pulled into the driveway of our house, the windows were completely dark.

As expected, Julian would probably spend the night at the hospital.

Just as the thought crossed my mind, my phone lit up. It was Julian.

I picked it up.

His deep, magnetic voice flowed into my ear. "Chloe, I might be home very late tonight. Go to sleep early, okay?"

Julian often came home late, but I knew that tonight, it was entirely for Vivian.

"Is she not doing well?" I asked.

He answered quickly, "She’s having a few minor issues, but nothing serious. Don't worry, Chloe. Get some rest..."

"Okay—"

The line went dead with a click. He hung up before I could finish my word.

I closed my eyes, surrounded by pitch darkness, an overwhelming wave of helplessness washing over me.

I wanted so badly to ask Julian just how important Vivian was to him.

Important enough that he couldn't even spare two seconds to let me finish a sentence.

When I got upstairs, it was already ten o'clock.

I stripped off my clothes and sank into the bathtub, trying to recall when our marriage had truly begun. I didn't know how to define a "beginning," but it certainly wasn't the day we signed our marriage license.

Exhaustion pulled me under, and I fell asleep in the water. I nearly drowned before strong arms wrapped a towel around me and lifted me onto the bed.

The winter chill seeped into the bedroom.

I sneezed, and Julian immediately reached over to turn up the heat.

When he walked back toward me, his brow was tightly furrowed in frustration.

"Are you still a child? You could have died in that tub!"

He scolded me while gently running a blow dryer through my hair.

I leaned up and pressed a quick kiss against his cheek, blinking playfully to appease him. "Didn't you say you'd be late? I thought you wouldn't be back until one or two in the morning."

He pinched my nose and chuckled, asking if I was trying to work him to death.

He kept talking, but the loud hum of the hair dryer masked his words. I couldn't hear anything, only watching his lips move.

Before we fell asleep, Julian buried his face in the crook of my neck, kissed my skin, and whispered, "I'm sorry."

I knew he was apologizing for missing dinner with my parents.

I turned over, curled into his arms, and whispered that it was okay. After all, this fragile peace was the best thing we had in our marriage.