Polly's POV
When I woke up again, the first thing I saw was the blinding white ceiling. The moment I shifted even slightly, pain pierced through every inch of my body.
Looking down at my arm wrapped tightly in bandages, I had a good guess at just how bad my injuries were.
The door creaked open, and I turned my head to see Sebastian walking in.
The moment I saw his figure, I immediately looked away. But he sat down beside me and cleared his throat awkwardly.
“The situation was chaotic. I didn’t have time to look after you,” he said.
When I didn’t respond, he went on, trying to explain, “That whole ‘maid’ label on your contact—that wasn’t me. Must’ve been Christian messing around with my phone. You don’t need to take it so seriously. He’s just a kid.”
Then he added with a faint hint of blame, “Besides, Adele has a big race coming up. I couldn’t risk her getting seriously hurt. It’s not like you have anything important going on. Besides, being in the hospital gives you a break, doesn’t it?”
He opened his mouth to say more, but a nurse walked in before he could continue. “Who’s Sebastian Trivett? The burn cream you requested is ready. You can pick it up from the pharmacy.”
Sebastian immediately stood up. “Adele’s hand got a little splashed. I’ll go check on her. You stay here and rest.”
And just like that, he was gone.
The door clicked shut behind him, and my heart clenched painfully.
I grabbed my phone, struggling to keep the shake out of my voice as I made the call. “I’m at City Hospital, Room 3512. Come pick me up.”
Third Person's POV
Sebastian was dabbing ointment on Adele’s hand when he suddenly remembered how badly bandaged Polly was back in the room. The contrast hit him hard.
Seeing him lost in thought, Adele’s eyes narrowed slightly, jealousy flickering beneath her fake concern.
“Sebastian, do you think this will scar?” she asked, her eyes red, tears threatening to fall.
“No, don’t worry,” he said softly. “I’ll get you the best dermatologist. It won’t leave a mark.”
Once he finished comforting Adele, it occurred to him to check on Polly again. But when he returned to her hospital room, it was already empty.
His heart sank.
He felt something was off.
He immediately pulled out his phone to call her, but before he could dial, Adele’s voice came from behind him.
“Sebastian, I think I twisted my ankle just now. Can you take a look?”
Sebastian looked back at the empty room. He figured Polly had just gone home early and turned away, kneeling in front of Adele to massage her ankle.
When he got home, he rushed to Polly's room.
But the moment he opened the door, he froze.
The room was nearly bare—too clean, too empty. There wasn’t a single sign of someone still living there.
Gripping the door handle tightly, dozens of thoughts raced through his mind.
'No. She won't leave me. She can't have.'
With that thought in mind, he ran to the housekeeper and asked, “Where’s Polly?”
“She came back, picked up a suitcase, and left,” the servant replied.
'A suitcase? She really left? Where would she even go?' he wondered, panicking.
He thought back to how cold Polly had looked in the hospital. And suddenly, a dreadful weight sank in his chest.
She was mad. She was furious he hadn’t protected her.
He took out his phone and fired off message after message.
[Stop being so dramatic. Adele’s a professional racer. If I hadn’t saved her, she wouldn’t be able to compete again.]
[Polly, you’ve made your point. You really think I have time to coddle you every single day?]
[Come back. I’ll make it up to you, okay? Besides, you’re not even that badly hurt. What are you trying to prove?]
Sitting on the sofa, he lit a cigarette, his face dark with frustration. His long fingers clenched the cigarette tightly, the glow flickering red.
But even after he finished smoking, there was still no response.
Polly hadn’t read any of his messages. Not one.
Irritated, he tossed the cigarette into the trash and typed one last message.
[I’ll be waiting at the church in three days. Let’s have the wedding. If you don’t show up, then forget it. We’ll never get married.]
He didn’t believe Polly would actually ignore that.
Three days later, the church was packed. Sebastian stood at the altar, watching the door, his heart pounding.
Only thirty minutes until the ceremony started, but still, no sign of Polly.
He took deeper, sharper breaths, chest rising and falling with anxiety. His eyes never left the doors, silently praying that any moment, I’d walk in wearing a wedding dress.
Minutes ticked by. Guests began whispering amongst themselves.
Sebastian’s nerves were stretched thin. His fingers clutched his phone tightly, knuckles turning white.
Then, the bells rang. The wedding was officially beginning.
And just as he was starting to panic completely, the doors opened.
His heart leapt. Joy flooded his eyes as he hurried toward the entrance.
But he stopped dead in his tracks.
It wasn’t Polly.
It was a courier.
“Who’s Mr. Sebastian Trivett?” the deliveryman called. “Miss Polly Feron asked me to deliver her wedding gift. She said I should read it aloud to you.”
Everyone turned to watch, curiosity painted all over their faces.
“The first item is an award certificate,” the courier announced.
Sebastian blinked, confused—until he saw what the certificate was. His eyes widened when he saw that it was a racing award certificate for the Racing Royals Competition with "Polly Feron" written on it.
He couldn't believe his wife was a racing champion.
“The second item is a divorce agreement. Miss Feron sends her regards and wishes you and Miss Adele a lifetime of mutual loyalty and everlasting love,” the man continued.
Hearing that, Sebastian’s phone slipped from his hand and hit the floor.
He then reached out with trembling fingers and picked up the divorce papers.
His eyes stared at the signature, full of disbelief.
