Chapter 8
Even though Grayson and I worked at the same medical station, seeing each other constantly, he never tried to approach me after that incident.
Whenever we crossed paths, he’d act like I wasn’t there, walking past me without a word.
What was laughable, though, was how he seemed to have selective amnesia about the divorce papers. Not a single word about them since I sent them.
I was done waiting. I asked a colleague to pass along a message: if he didn’t sign the papers within three days, I’d take it to court.
Finally, Grayson broke his silence.
stopped avoiding me, but instead of addressing the divorce, he found a way to force interactions by leveraging his position.
Back at his hospital, he’d been a head surgeon; here, he was just as influential.
Knowing I was assisting surgeries now, he made me his assistant.
In his office, though, he didn’t even mention the divorce papers.
He didn’t ask me to do any work, either.
Instead, he poured me tea, bringing it over himself, as if we were still on good terms.
Every now and then, he’d murmur in my ear,
“Vivian, I can’t live without you. I’ll die if you leave me.”
I was long past feeling anything for him.
My reply was cold, emotionless.
“Then go ahead and die.”
Grayson froze, the cup in his hand suspended mid–air, unsure whether to put it down or take a sip.
I stared at his unsettled expression, then raised my gaze.
What’s wrong? Are you planning to assault me again?”
His eyes turned bloodshot in an instant.
“No! Vivian, no, I’d never-” he stammered, waving his hands as if to erase the accusation. He sighed heavily, his voice low.
“Do you really want to take everything from me? Is that what’ll make you happy?”
I shrugged indifferently.
That afternoon, Grayson wasn’t in the office.
I stayed behind to clean up, sorting through files and tidying the shelves.
While organizing a cabinet, an old, yellowed photo slipped out and fell to the floor.
I picked it up, and my chest tightened.
It was a picture from our first date, years ago.
We were both smiling, carefree and happy.
Grayson’s voice startled me from my thoughts.
“You remember, don’t you?” he asked softly, his expression surprisingly tender.
