chapter 4

The next morning, I packed my things and prepared to leave the hospital. The hallways smelled faintly of antiseptic and overbrewed coffee, the sound of my suitcase wheels echoing against the sterile tiles. Just as I reached the end of the corridor, I almost collided with Edward. He didn't even look at me. His arm was around the frail girl beside him, half-supporting, half-holding her, like she might shatter if he let go. Her face was pale under the harsh fluorescent lights—this was the girl he had left me for on our wedding day.

Maybe my stare lingered too long, because Daisy noticed me first. She shrank behind Edward, clutching the hem of his shirt with trembling fingers. Only then did he finally turn my way, irritation flashing across his features. "Maria, Daisy's not in a good state right now. If you've got something to say, say it at home. Don't make a scene here and scare her."

Daisy peeked out timidly, her voice barely a whisper. "Maria, there's really nothing between me and Edward… Please don't misunderstand."

I squeezed the hospital discharge papers in my hand until they crumpled, but when I spoke, my tone was cool and even. "You're overthinking it. I'm just here to check out." I brushed past them toward the counter. Edward's expression flickered—maybe surprise, maybe confusion at how calm I was. For the first time, I saw something like emptiness in his eyes.

When he reached out, I instinctively turned. That's when I noticed a faint stain on his white coat, a brownish smear along the sleeve. His gaze followed mine. When I took off my jacket, he quickly stripped off his own and tried to place it over my shoulders, but I stepped aside. He hesitated, then followed after me again, voice soft and careful. "Let me take it. You love this jacket. I'll get it cleaned for you."

I shook my head and tossed the jacket into the nearest trash can. "Just throw it away," I said flatly. "I don't like dirty things—you know that. I'm a neat freak."

His smile froze. He understood perfectly well that I wasn't talking about the jacket. I was talking about us.

He opened his mouth to say something, but I had already turned back to the desk to check out. By the time I left the hospital, I could feel his gaze following me down the corridor, heavy and useless.

Outside, drizzle had begun again, soft but relentless. My phone buzzed before I even reached the street. Edward texted, "Don't be mad. I bought that strawberry cake you wanted last time. It's on the way to your place."

When the delivery arrived, I stared at the familiar blue box and laughed. Back when he'd done something wrong, he always sent this exact cake to smooth things over—sweet, predictable, thoughtless. I sat at the kitchen table, opened the box, and took a bite out of habit. It used to taste so sweet. Now it was just bitter and hard to swallow.

That night, he didn't come home. Letting go of six years of love hurt more than I'd imagined. I couldn't sleep. The apartment felt too quiet, the silence pressing against my ribs. So I got up and began to pack.

The matching sweaters in the closet. The books lined up neatly on the shelf. The sticky notes on the fridge, still reminding him to eat breakfast, to rest. Every little thing felt like a needle pressing into my skin. I remembered the year we graduated—Edward had just started his residency and was working himself to exhaustion, but he still showed up on his rare days off, eyes bright with promise. "Maria, once I get promoted, I'll marry you."

Two years later, he stood before me with a ring, hands trembling, "I did it. Marry me, okay? I keep my promises." The sun was shining so brilliantly that day. I cried into his shoulder, believing I was the luckiest girl alive. We decorated our place together, picked out furniture, lined the windowsills with succulents because I loved them. He said he wanted our home to always feel warm.

But now, there was no room for me here anymore.

By the time I closed the last suitcase, dawn was bleeding into the sky. I called the movers. When they arrived, both our parents showed up too. I hadn't told them what had happened, so they didn't understand why a couple who'd been planning their wedding days ago were suddenly separating. My parents didn't ask questions—they just sighed and said quietly, "If you want to come home, just come home."

Edward's mother grabbed my hand, tears trembling in her eyes. "Maria, can you give Edward another chance? What happened at the wedding—he just got confused for a moment."

I didn't answer. I only nodded to the movers. "Keep going."

The sound of tape sealing boxes filled the apartment, sharp and final.