I stumbled back a step.
Saved? Someone saved me?
But who?
“Do it properly next time,” Jasmine ordered coldly. “And never show your face to me again unless I call you and never tell anyone about this! Got it?”
Footsteps. I backed up quickly, hiding behind a corner as the man exited. I was shaking.
Then—
“There you are!”
I spun around.
Scott.
Beaming.
“Great, you’re here already!” he said, like we were just bumping into each other in a mall. “Jasmine’s so excited to see you. She wants her usual milk tea from that café you love. Could you go get it for her?”
I blinked at him.
Did he not see my bandages?
Did he not care?
“No,” I said quietly.
“What?” His smile faded. “What do you mean no?”
“I don’t want to.”
His brow furrowed. “Are you disobeying me now? What’s this all about?”
“You’re disobeying me now?” he repeated.
Scott’s voice snapped at my ear like a whip. His eyes were wide with disbelief, the kind that made me want to laugh if I wasn’t so exhausted.
“No,” I said, my throat raw. “I’m just tired. I got hurt, Scott. Didn’t I call you?”
His expression flickered — the mask slipping back into place, the apologetic husband, the sweet savior he liked to play for everyone else’s benefit.
“Oh, baby, I thought you were joking,” he crooned, stepping forward, brushing a hand down my cheek as if that would wipe away the bruises I still felt on my ribs.
“Why didn’t you tell me again? Where are you hurt? We’ll find who did this to you, huh? They’ll pay. You should lie down. I’ll take care of you—”
A sharp scream cut through the corridor.
“Help! Scott!” Jasmine’s voice — sharp, desperate.
I didn’t even get to feel what betrayal tasted like because Scott didn’t spare me another glance. He spun on his heel like I wasn’t even there. “Jasmine! I’m here! I’m coming!” I heard him shout as he disappeared into her room.
All I could do was stand there, staring at the empty space where he’d just been. Then I laughed. A bitter sound, more air than humor. I didn’t know whether I was laughing at him or myself anymore.
From the room, I could hear him: “It’s okay, Jasmine, I’m here. I’ll call the doctor, don’t worry.” Then, loud enough for the whole hallway to hear: “Nadine! Call the doctor!”
Like I was a maid. Like I wasn’t the woman who’d wasted years pretending to be his wife. I turned to walk away but Jasmine’s weak, syrupy voice called out, “Nadine! Wait, please come here!”