And now, he wasn’t bothering to hide it at all. They were together. Not just as siblings. No one looked at their sister the way he looked at her in that video.
And she? She looked like she’d already won.
I pressed my palm against my chest and exhaled. Just a few more days. Just a few more hours.
I had already filed for the divorce. My visa would arrive soon. I’d already made quiet arrangements with the embassy. My ticket out was coming.
All I had to do was survive until then.
On the fifth day, I was finally cleared for discharge. I changed out of the hospital gown, packed my things, and signed the paperwork. The nurse wheeled me to the lobby.
That’s when I saw them.
Troy.
And Bianca.
Sitting side by side.
Bianca had shopping bags in her hands—designer names in bold gold fonts, as if she was here for a runway rather than an apology.
“Thalia,” she called sweetly. “You’re looking better!”
I didn’t answer. She walked over, holding out the bags like a peace offering.