Chapter 5

Anya's POV

I stayed in the hospital for three days.

In those three days, Julian didn't show up once.

My only companion each day was a diligent caregiver. She took my temperature, changed my dressings, brought me food – everything was mechanically polite.

On the morning of the third day, I calmly completed the discharge procedures without notifying anyone.

The cast on my arm was still on, and my back still ached faintly, but strangely, my steps felt lighter than ever before.

Returning to the villa, I felt no lingering attachment.

I went straight up to the second floor and began packing my things.

There wasn't much, actually. A few everyday clothes, some design tools, and several well-worn professional books.

Three years of marriage, and I felt like a temporary guest here.

As I dragged my suitcase, preparing to go downstairs, voices drifted up from the living room.

It was Julian, along with a few of his friends.

I instinctively paused, hiding in the shadows of the staircase landing.

"Julian, are you even a man?"

Liam's voice smelled of alcohol, yet his words were jarringly sober. "Anya is still lying in the hospital, and here you are, spending every day with Willow at her therapist appointments! Do you think you're being fair to Anya?"

Owen chimed in from beside him: "Exactly, Julian. What you did this time was too much. When that chandelier fell, how could you leave Anya alone there? I heard she even fractured her arm!"

I held my breath, my chest tightening.

After a long silence, I heard Julian's hoarse voice: "You don't understand… Three years ago, Willow was forcefully taken away by her parents right in front of me. She cried and begged me, but I was powerless. That helplessness and regret, you can't possibly comprehend."

He paused, his voice filled with deep anguish.

"I swore I'd never let her be hurt in front of me again. So when that chandelier fell, my mind went blank… I just knew I couldn't lose her again."

"So for your idealized first love, you'd sacrifice Anya?"

Liam scoffed. "She's your wife! For three years, what fault could you find with her? She gave up her career to take care of you. When you were sick, she stayed up all night. When you had stomach problems, she cooked all sorts of dishes for you. What the hell about you deserves her?"

What about him deserved me?

I wanted to know too.

I thought that hearing these words, Julian would at least feel guilty.

But he didn't.

"She's good. She's good in every way, gentle and sensible, taking care of me meticulously."

He paused, as if letting out a deep sigh.

In that instant, even breathing became painful for me.

It turned out all my efforts, all my goodness, weren't worth more than a single phrase: "Just not the one I wanted."

I clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle any sound.

I didn't linger. Dragging my suitcase, I slipped away silently through the villa's back door.

—

I moved into a serviced apartment in the city center.

The room wasn't large, but it was clean and bright, like a fresh start.

I quickly threw myself into preparing the studio.

After back-to-back video conferences with Leo, we finalized the location, renovation plans, and future strategies.

I didn't sleep a wink, sketching designs for three days and three nights straight.

When I sent him the final proposal, his barely concealed excitement came through the phone.

"Anya, you're a genius! This proposal is fantastic!"

I smiled. It was the first genuine, heartfelt smile I'd had in a long time.

It turned out that when I stopped focusing all my attention on the man who didn't love me, the world had become so vast.

I, Anya Sterling, was not anyone's accessory.

Above all, I was my own person.

—

The day before I left for A-City, the lawyer delivered the divorce papers.

The terms were simple—I wanted nothing; I would leave with nothing.

I picked up the pen and signed my name. As the pen tip glided across the paper, an odd sense of calm settled in my heart.

Just then, my phone rang.

It was an unknown number.

"Hello, is this Ms. Sterling?"

An anxious female voice came from the other end.

"It is."

"I'm the caregiver from the nursing home where your mother used to live. We recently found a box she had always treasured while organizing her belongings. It seems to contain some important items. Would you be able to come and pick it up sometime soon?"

My mother's belongings?

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