Chapter 3

Carter was thirty-five, yet he was acting like an insecure, rebellious teenager.

The more I told him to stay away from Chloe, the more brazenly he paraded her around.

He even took to posting suggestive photos on his public social media every single day, deliberately trying to get a rise out of me.

When I saw his latest Ins post, I was sitting on a cold bench in the hospital hallway, waiting for my test results.

Caption: "True love is only given to the one who deserves it."

In the photo, he had his arm wrapped tightly around Chloe as they both wore matching designer ski suits.

She beamed at the camera, flashing a peace sign, while Carter looked down at her with unfiltered adoration.

Staring at the screen, I finally lost all control. My entire body began to shake violently.

Heavy tears splashed against the glass of my phone. My grip slipped, and the medical paperwork fluttered out of my hands, scattering across the linoleum floor.

He took her skiing?

That took me back to the year our love was at its peak.

I had grown up in the warm South and had always dreamed of seeing real snow.

On my birthday, Carter took me to a ski resort. But during our run, a binding snapped, and I was thrown violently toward a steep drop.

I had braced myself for multiple broken bones, but Carter had thrown himself off his skis without hesitation, sliding beneath me to break my fall. He was knocked unconscious and suffered severe concussions.

It was that very sacrifice that made me decide I would spend the rest of my life loving him.

After that accident, Carter developed severe PTSD toward snow sports. In the ten years we were together, we never set foot on a ski slope again.

And now... he had miraculously overcome a ten-year trauma just for Chloe Vance.

A suffocating bitterness coiled around my lungs. Did he really love Chloe that much? Enough to conquer his deepest fears, enough to discard his psychological scars?

My throat tightened, and hot tears streamed uncontrollably down my face.

My trembling fingers lightly traced the blurry, decade-old photo saved on my phone.

Even after ten years of fading colors, nothing could hide the brilliant, reckless love we once shared.

I took a screenshot of his Ins post and sent it to him via text.

Why?

I thought I would get an angry text back, but instead, an incoming FaceTime call popped onto my screen.

I answered it. Chloe's radiant, smiling face filled the display.

"Oh, Elena! I know Carter had a bit of a mental block about skiing, but he told me he was willing to overcome anything for me.

Don't worry. I'll take good care of him this time. I won't be a burden and put him in the hospital like you did."

Carter stood right behind her, shaking his head with an indulgent, fond smile.

"Carter, I'm at the hospital," I whispered, my voice cracking as I tried to remind him of my reality.

Carter took the phone from Chloe's hand, his brow furrowing into an annoyed knot.

"The hospital again? Elena, why are you so damn delicate lately? You run to the doctor over every little ache and pain!

Why can't you be more like Chloe? Exercise keeps you healthy and full of energy. Looking at your miserable, sickly face every day completely drains me."

"By the way, keep your distance from Lily when you get home. Don't go passing whatever bug you have to our daughter. I'm hanging up."

I opened my mouth, but my lips trembled so violently that not a single sound came out. The very last thread holding my heart together snapped in that instant.

Listening to the flat dial tone echoing through the phone, tears poured down my cheeks.

He had no idea. He didn't even care to know what state my body was actually in.

I slumped down in the empty hospital hallway, my heart turning to ice. I knew then that my marriage with Carter was dead and buried.

Looking down at the medical reports scattered across the floor, an overwhelming wave of exhaustion washed over me.

For ten years, I stood shoulder to shoulder with him, building his startup from the ground up, attending brutal late-night investor dinners and drinking until my stomach burned.

No matter how immense the stress was, I shouldered it in silence, refusing to burden him.

And this was what I got in return for sacrificing my youth and my health? A sneer telling me I was 'too delicate'?