Chapter 4

Anya's POV

The enormous crystal chandelier swayed violently, shards reflecting a blinding glare in the light.

I instinctively wanted to step back.

In that instant, a dark blur shot from not far away—it was Julian.

My heart skipped a beat, completely against my will.

I thought he was coming to save me.

But reality always twisted the knife when a person was most vulnerable.

He didn't hesitate for a second.

He swooped past me, swift and decisive, pulling Willow, who was beside me, tightly into his embrace. He shielded her with his body, his back to the danger, holding her close to his chest, moving her away from directly beneath the chandelier.

The whole process took less than two seconds.

And I was completely abandoned on the spot.

In that moment, he didn't even spare me a glance.

It turns out that in a life-or-death moment, human instinct doesn't lie.

Whoever he chooses to save is the most important person in his heart.

And I didn't even deserve to be pulled away as an afterthought.

"CRASH—"

The sound of the chandelier falling was deafening.

I had no time to react, only felt a massive force hit my back, and pain instantly surged through my entire body.

The world spun, and the surrounding commotion faded into the distance.

Before losing consciousness entirely, I thought I heard Julian's voice.

"Anya—!"

But what did it matter?

A belated cry couldn't save anything.

My world plunged into darkness.

—

When I woke up again, the pungent smell of antiseptic almost made me gag.

Pungent, yet absurdly familiar.

I struggled to open my eyes. The white ceiling was a blur.

I tried to move my fingers, but the pain almost stole my breath.

"You're awake?"

I turned my head and saw a doctor in a white coat. His voice was gentle.

"What… happened to me?" My voice was dry and raspy, like sand weathered by wind.

"You were hit by a heavy object, suffering multiple soft tissue contusions, a mild concussion, and a fractured left arm. But thankfully, you're out of danger."

I managed a weak smile, my lips barely curved.

Physical wounds would heal, but what about the emotional ones?

My heart was already shattered.

—

The hospital room door opened.

Julian walked in.

He looked a bit disheveled, with a small scratch on his temple.

He walked to the bedside, looking at me, his expression complicated.

"How are you feeling?" he asked in a low voice.

I didn't look at him, just stared at the sky outside the window.

"I'm not dying," I said.

He was silent for a few seconds, seemingly wanting to explain: "The situation was too urgent then, I—"

"You instinctively saved her," I finished his sentence, then turned my head to meet his gaze. "I understand. You don't need to explain."

He stiffened, his Adam's apple bobbing.

I could tell he was flustered.

But what did it matter?

"Anya, I didn't mean to," he said with difficulty. "Willow was terrified. I had to make sure she was okay first—"

"She was terrified, she needed you to comfort her," I interrupted him. "What about me? Julian, when I was knocked unconscious, where were you?"

He was speechless.

The room was so quiet that only our breathing could be heard.

Watching his lost and helpless expression, I suddenly felt… so pointless.

I used to be able to be sad all night over a single word from him, but now, I didn't even have the energy to be angry.

"You should go," I closed my eyes. "I just want to be alone."

He seemed about to say something else when his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen, his expression changing, and immediately stepped out of the room to answer.

The soundproofing wasn't great.

I could still hear his voice, trying hard to keep it down—

"Don't be scared, I'll be right there. I've already booked a therapist, she's upstairs. Just wait for me, okay?"

…

A few minutes later, he pushed the door open again.

A hint of apology on his face: "Anya, Willow is shaken and emotionally unstable. I need to take her to see a therapist. I'll have a caregiver look after you here."

I still kept my eyes closed, without even fluttering an eyelash.

He wouldn't know that my heart was already numb.

It turned out he wasn't here to see me specifically today.

He was just accompanying Willow to the hospital to see a therapist and happened to pass my room.

Perhaps he saw my name at the front desk and then remembered he had a "wife" also staying here.

He "happened" to visit me.

Just like he "happened" to have anniversary dinner with me,

"Happened" to play the role of husband in our marriage.

My life and death would always be an accessory in his world.

Seeing that I didn't speak, he must have thought I was tacitly agreeing. He stood for a moment, then finally turned and left.

The sound of the door closing was exceptionally clear in my ears.

I slowly opened my eyes. The white ceiling made my head ache.

I raised my uninjured right hand, felt for my purse on the bedside table, and pulled out that worn diary.

I turned to a new page, and with all my strength, wrote:

[Entry 85:]

[The chandelier fell, a moment between life and death.]

[He passed me by and saved her.]

[This is what abandonment felt like.]

###