I Tore The Marriage Form In Half And Walked Away Forever Chapter 03
The next morning, I removed my IV and headed downstairs to pay my hospital bill.
As I passed a private room near the corner of the corridor, a familiar figure caught my eye.
Julian sat beside a hospital bed.
In his hands was a bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup.
He carefully blew on each spoonful before feeding it to Kaylee.
Kaylee Miller rested against a stack of pillows, looking pale and fragile.
She swallowed a spoonful of soup and smiled.
“This is amazing, Julian. You must have spent hours making it.”
Julian dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin.
His voice was impossibly gentle.
“If you like it, I’ll make it for you every day.”
I stood frozen outside the doorway.
For seven years, every time I got sick, Julian ordered takeout.
He always claimed he couldn’t cook.
Said he’d burn instant oatmeal if he tried.
Apparently, he wasn’t incapable of cooking.
He simply never wanted to do it for me.
At that moment, Kaylee turned her head.
Our eyes met.
Her face immediately drained of color.
She let out a startled scream and slapped the bowl from Julian’s hands.
Soup splashed across the floor.
Then she curled beneath the blankets.
“Clara, please don’t blame Julian!”
Her voice trembled dramatically.
“This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have gotten sick. I shouldn’t have made Julian take care of me.”
Julian didn’t even notice the burn on his hand.
He immediately wrapped his arms around her and began soothing her.
Then he looked up.
The fury in his eyes hit me like a slap.
“Clara!”
He shot to his feet.
“What is wrong with you?”
His voice echoed through the hallway.
“I told you to calm down.”
He pointed toward me.
“Why are you here? Why did you come to Kaylee’s room?”
Before I could answer, he shoved my shoulder.
Hard.
I wasn’t prepared.
I stumbled backward several steps.
My lower back slammed into the metal railing lining the corridor.
A sharp pain exploded through my abdomen.
I gasped and clutched my stomach.
The world tilted.
Slowly, I slid to the floor.
For a split second, Julian froze.
He even started to reach for me.
Then Kaylee began crying inside the room.
Immediately, he withdrew his hand.
His face hardened with irritation.
“Stop pretending.”
His voice was cold.
“I barely touched you.”
He pointed toward the elevator.
“Leave. Don’t make a scene in the hospital.”
I gritted my teeth and forced myself upright despite the pain twisting through my stomach.
Then I held up the paper in my hand.
“Take a closer look.”
Julian frowned.
“It’s my payment receipt.”
I stared directly into his eyes.
“I was on my way downstairs to pay my hospital bill.”
My voice turned icy.
“I have zero interest in watching the two of you put on this pathetic performance.”
For the first time, uncertainty flickered across his face.
But I was already turning away.
I walked toward the elevator without looking back.
That evening, I checked out of the hospital and returned to the villa.
I had just finished showering when my phone lit up.
Julian had sent me a bank transfer.
Five thousand dollars.
A moment later, two voice messages arrived.
The first one played.
[Clara, I lost my temper today. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.]
The second followed.
[I sent you some money. Go get that Seafood Tower from your favorite restaurant. Consider it my apology.]
I stared at the transfer notification.
Then I typed a reply.
[I’ve been allergic to shellfish for years.]
The message showed as read almost immediately.
Julian responded.
[Sorry. I’ve been exhausted lately. My mind’s a mess.]
A few seconds later another text arrived.
[I’ll take you shopping tomorrow and buy you something nice. Stay home and wait for me.]
I didn’t reply.
I tossed my phone onto the bed.
Julian never came home that night.
I lay awake staring at the ceiling.
Two in the morning.
Still no sleep.
Finally, I threw back the covers and got out of bed.
From the storage room, I dragged out several large moving boxes.
Then I started packing.
My clothes.
My skincare products.
My books.
One item after another disappeared into cardboard boxes.
When I reached the living room, I paused.
The gray sectional couch.
We’d picked it out together when we first moved in.
The giant television across from it.
We’d saved half a year’s bonuses to buy it.
I still remembered the day it was delivered.
Julian had scooped me into his arms and spun me around the room.
“Clara,” he’d said, grinning like a fool, “I finally gave you a home.”
Back then, his eyes had sparkled with hope.
The house was still here.
The light was gone.
I swept the matching coffee mugs we’d bought together into the trash.
Took down every framed photograph from the walls.
Dropped them into a storage box.
As the house gradually emptied, something inside me quieted.
The passion.
The dreams.
The love.
All of it had finally surrendered to reality.
I sealed the last box with tape and brushed the dust from my hands.
Outside, dawn was beginning to break.
I looked toward the growing light beyond the windows.
Then I released a long breath.
For the first time in a very long time…
I let him go.
