Not even when I was sick. Not even when I was carrying his child.
But for Faye?
Tears slipped silently down my cheeks, but I didn’t bother wiping them away.
I had been foolish. So, so foolish.
I had actually thought that if I got sick in front of Faye, if she saw me weak and vulnerable, it would make Tristan realize my importance.
But the truth was—
I had never been important to him at all.
For two days, Tristan didn’t return home. Not a single call, not even a text.
Yet, Faye’s social media was filled with posts—pictures, updates, little snippets of their time together. Cooking together. Eating together. Laughing together.
As if she wanted the whole world to know.
As if she wanted me to see.
By the third day, my fever had finally subsided. And just as I thought things couldn’t be any more absurd—
An invitation arrived.
It was for Faye’s award ceremony.
When I was a child, my mother died because of insufficient medical skills. That day, I could do nothing but watch as she slipped away.