Alberta tugged at his sleeve, cutting him off.
"Dr. Henson, I'm fine, really."
"I upset your wife at the wedding that day. Whatever she does to get back at me, I deserve it."
Wounded. Pitiful. Every syllable perfectly calibrated.
And Oliver melted on cue, his heart aching for her instantly.
Right there in front of Alberta, he raised his hand.
And slapped me hard across the face.
Oliver's voice was ice.
"So I hit you. What are you going to do about it?"
"Your staff can't even handle basic professional standards. You have no one to blame but yourselves."
"You want to sue? Go ahead. Add me to the lawsuit. Let's see what a judge has to say."
The pain was blinding.
But it woke me up completely.
I decided then that I would never think about that afternoon by the river again. Not ever.
After the confrontation, hit pieces flooded the internet overnight. Fabricated rumors, vicious lies, all of it spiraling out of control.
My studio became untouchable.
The video of Oliver slapping me had been turned into a looping clip, circulating through every corner of Capital City's high society.
Now whenever anyone saw me, their eyes carried the same expression: a pitying half-smile that wasn't really pity at all.
So I shut the studio down. Paid every employee three months' severance.
Then I wired Sarah an extra fifty thousand on top of that.
Tomorrow was the day I left Capital City.
But tonight, Oliver came home.
He stepped through the door and froze.
His eyes swept the room. "Why is the house so... empty?"
"Where's the wedding portrait?"
I didn't look up. "Threw it out. Left the nail in the wall, though. In case you want to hang something else later."
Oliver's voice went stiff.
"That's not what I meant."
"Your face... the mark..."
He moved closer, reaching to tilt my chin up.
I flinched away before he could touch me, widening the distance between us.
"It's nothing. Already healed."
Oliver shifted uncomfortably.
"I lost my temper that day. But you weren't exactly blameless either."
"I've told you a hundred times. Alberta is my student. She's young, she's from a poor family, and I look out for her. That's all it is. But you keep going after her, again and again. What is that if not asking for trouble?"
I murmured a quiet "Mm" and said, "It won't happen again."
Oliver seemed caught off guard by that. He froze for a long moment before gently reaching for my hand.
"By the way, can I borrow your wedding ring?"
"Alberta's been in a bad mood lately. She said she likes the style of your ring, so I want to buy her one just like it."
But he quickly noticed my ring finger was bare.
Oliver stared.
"Where's your ring?"
I stood up, went to the walk-in closet, and came back with a small box, which I handed to him.
"Here. Take it."
"Check the size. If her fingers are about the same as mine, she can just wear this one."
"Oh, wait. I forgot. You don't like giving her secondhand things. In that case, just put it back in the closet when you're done with it."
Oliver fixed his gaze on me, something dark and unreadable shifting behind his eyes.
He didn't respond to any of what I'd said about the ring. Instead, he asked, "You used to care so much about your wedding ring."
"Why did you take it off?"
I smiled faintly.
Care so much. Yeah. That was an understatement.
I'd flown to several countries just to find the perfect pair. Design sketches had covered half my desk. Every single day, I'd sent Oliver photos asking, Does this one look good? What about this one?
He never replied. Not once.
When the rings finally arrived, I had to pester him for ages before he'd even put his on.
And now, after all that, he couldn't even remember what my ring looked like. He wanted to buy Alberta a matching one and needed to borrow the original just to compare.
I said nothing more. Oliver set the ring box down. Silence stretched between us for a long time.
"We'll deal with the ring later. Come to dinner at my parents' place tonight."
"My mom misses you."
I closed my laptop.
"Sorry. I don't have time tonight."
"I have a flight to catch."
