Chapter 5

When I woke again, my daughter was leaning over my bed, her round eyes staring at me.

I was about to comfort her that I was fine.

But my daughter sighed regretfully.

"Daddy, you slept for so long. I thought you died."

"If you had died, that would have been great. Then Mommy could be with Uncle Ethan."

"They're in the living room talking right now. Mommy is crying so sadly."

My heart was torn open by her innocent tone. Enduring the pain throughout my body, I pushed open the bedroom door.

Frost's voice stabbed sharply into my skull.

"Ethan Cole, let's come clean to Mom and Dad. So what if they know we like each other!"

"I can't accept another woman being by your side. I'll go crazy."

"As long as you're willing to leave with me, I can even leave Emma behind. We'll go somewhere where no one knows us!"

Ethan flatly refused.

"That won't work. Have you thought about Zachary? Zachary is my best friend and your husband. I can't let him lose both of us."

"Then why did you force me to marry him!"

"Do you know that I used to feel guilty toward Zachary, but every single second of being married to him, I've hated him. You're the one who made him lose us!"

A pathetic groan escaped my throat.

The bandaged area slammed hard against the door frame.

Ethan's expression changed drastically. He rushed over to support my shoulders.

"Zachary, you're awake. Does it hurt? Frost and I were just rehearsing a script. The screenwriter sent it earlier saying the emotions weren't full enough, so we were practicing."

I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead and forced a smile.

"Is that so? I heard everything just now. I thought you both did very well."

Ethan helped me back to the hospital bed and gave a few instructions to "rest well" before hurriedly leaving with Frost.

The moment the door closed, soft laughter drifted from the hallway.

She was laughing, as if those words had never been spoken.

I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

The wound started hurting again. It felt like fire burning beneath the bandages, but I didn't even have the strength to cry out in pain.

The door cracked open. Emma's little head poked through. When her round eyes confirmed I was alone, she swaggered in.

"Daddy." She stood by the bed, clutching a pink hair clip in her hand—the one Ethan had given her last week.

"What is it?" My voice was so hoarse it was barely audible.

Emma climbed onto the chair by the bed, her legs swinging back and forth. She tilted her head and stared at me for a while before suddenly asking, "Daddy, when are you moving out?"

I froze.

"Uncle Ethan said his new house is ready. It has a bigger yard where we can have a dog. Mommy said she's moving there too."

Emma counted on her fingers. "Grandma said after that, I can see Uncle Ethan every day."

"Daddy, can you move out quickly? Once you're gone, we can live in the big house."

Her tone was as light as discussing tomorrow's breakfast. There was no reluctance in her eyes, only pure anticipation.

"Emma," I tried to reach out to touch her face, "if Daddy leaves, no one will tell you bedtime stories."

"Uncle Ethan will!" She proudly lifted her chin. "Uncle Ethan tells better stories than you."

I withdrew my hand, my fingertips trembling slightly.

Emma jumped off the chair and ran to the door. Then she turned back and seriously reminded me:

"Daddy, when you leave, take all your stuff with you. Mommy said not to leave anything here. It takes up space."

With that, she ran off. The patter of footsteps in the hallway grew fainter and fainter.

I slowly closed my eyes.

Takes up space.

So in her eyes, even my existence was superfluous.

The string that had been stretched taut finally snapped in that moment. I fumbled under my pillow for my phone and sent a message to the lawyer: "Process the divorce agreement as originally drafted. I don't want a penny. Just make it fast."