Chapter 3
I was discharged the next day.
Ethan personally wheeled Chloe downstairs.
Chloe looked glowing. She sat in the wheelchair, wearing his jacket.
A thin layer of gauze was wrapped around her wrist.
She looked more like a delicate piece of porcelain than a patient.
I held onto the wall, slowly following behind them.
Every step sent a sharp pain through my abdomen, making my vision go dark.
The nurse ran out and called after us. "Mrs. Vance, you just had surgery. It's best if your husband supports you."
Ethan paused.
He looked back at me.
I looked at him too.
Chloe cleared her throat softly.
Ethan immediately looked down at her. "Are you cold? Do you want another jacket?"
In the end, his glance only brushed past me.
In the parking lot, the driver opened the door.
The back seat was piled high with Chloe's flower baskets, supplements, and medical bags.
A soft cushion was laid out on the passenger seat.
Ethan had put it there himself for Chloe.
I stood by the car, the cold wind blowing into my collar.
The gauze on my stomach throbbed.
I asked him, "Where do I sit?"
Ethan buckled Chloe's seatbelt without looking up. "Take an Uber back."
My phone vibrated.
He had sent me two hundred dollars.
The note read: *Stop making a scene.*
Chloe sat in the front seat and said softly, "Maybe Elena should sit here? She doesn't look well."
Ethan shut her door. "She's always been tough."
*Always been tough.*
So I could handle the pain.
I could handle the bleeding.
And I could handle losing our child.
I suddenly remembered when we first started dating.
Ethan held the steering wheel and told me, "This passenger seat is yours. Only you can sit here."
I was so happy that day that I posted a picture of the car window on Snapchat.
The caption read: *My exclusive spot.*
Later, Chloe came back to the country.
The first time she got into the car, she sat in the front.
I asked Ethan why.
He said she got car sick.
He told me not to be petty.
It turned out my "exclusive spot" was just a temporary loan while Chloe was away.
And now.
The passenger seat wasn't mine.
There was no room for me in the back either.
Just like the day of the crash.
I was always put last.
And I was always the one who could be forgotten.
I took an Uber back to our house alone.
The driver looked at me through the rearview mirror several times. "Miss, do you need me to take you to the ER?"
I said no.
There was no one waiting for me at the hospital anyway.
When I got home, there was soup simmering in the kitchen.
Wild mushroom chicken soup.
Chloe's favorite.
On the coffee table, her anxiety meds, heating pad, and pain patches were laid out neatly.
Everything was perfectly prepared.
My anti-inflammatory meds were still crumpled inside the hospital plastic bag.
No one opened them.
No one asked.
No one even remembered I had just had surgery.
That evening, Ethan came back.
He brought a container of porridge.
He set it in front of me. "Your sister couldn't finish it. Don't let it go to waste."
The porridge was already lukewarm.
I looked at the thin layer of skin forming on top and didn't touch it.
Ethan frowned. "Your stomach is weak. Eat a little."
I suddenly smiled.
He actually remembered my stomach was weak.
But remembering didn't stop him from handing me someone else's leftovers.
Chloe's call came right at that moment.
Ethan answered almost instantly.
Her voice was soft and crying on the other end. "Ethan, I'm scared to sleep alone."
Ethan had already picked up his car keys. "I'm coming over."
I looked up at him. "Ethan."
He stopped.
I asked, "If I were the one scared tonight, would you rush over like this too?"
He frowned. "Chloe just survived a car crash. Don't compare yourself to her at a time like this."
The door shut.
Only the cold porridge was left in the quiet house.
I stared at it for a while.
Then I opened my laptop and went to the relocation system.
The button to confirm the transfer was glowing.
I clicked it.
*Transfer Confirmed.*
The words on the screen were small.
But they felt like a door opening right in front of me.