Clarissa's POV
I slowly put my phone down, feeling nothing but emptiness inside. Without a second thought, I called for a cab and headed straight to the hospital.
The hospital quickly admitted me, and they told me my surgery for abortion was scheduled two days from now. But there was a problem—it required a family member’s signature.
I had no idea how I was supposed to bring this up to Alfie.
That night, Alfie showed up at the same hospital, holding Shirley in his arms.
Doctors and nurses rushed to meet them. One doctor spoke urgently, “The patient has a ruptured corpus luteum. Get her bloodwork done immediately and check if an operating room is available. We need to get her in as soon as possible.”
The nurse nodded and hurried off.
As Alfie walked past me, our shoulders nearly brushed. He did a double take and frowned. “Clarissa? What are you doing here?”
I kept my expression neutral. “I forgot to pick up my test results from my last prenatal checkup.”
He looked like he wanted to say something, but before he could, a nurse called out to him. “Mr. Bowen, please come with me. Your wife needs emergency treatment.”
Alfie didn’t even bother to correct her. Without hesitation, he turned and followed her inside.
I gripped the documents in my hand—the surgical consent form and the divorce papers—and walked into the emergency ward after them.
Inside, the bright lights illuminated the frantic movement of doctors and nurses. Alfie was running back and forth, his face clouded with worry, even as he stood by the payment window, pulling out his wallet with trembling hands.
I watched it all unfold, yet my heart remained still.
Then, as if sensing my gaze, he turned and spotted me.
“Clarissa, about Shirley—” he started, but I cut him off before he could explain.
Pulling two documents from my bag, I handed them to him. “Alfie, I forgot to get your signature when I took leave for my prenatal checkup last time. Our company has a new policy—family members need to sign for reimbursement.”
His expression stiffened. “I’ve never heard of that before.”
I had never lied to him before, so he didn’t suspect a thing. Muttering under his breath, he grabbed a pen and signed his name in both places—the consent form for my surgery and the divorce papers.
As I took the documents back, he suddenly grabbed my hand. “Why are your hands so cold?”
For a brief moment, guilt flickered in his eyes.
Had he finally remembered that he left me outside in the freezing cold last night?
With a soft voice, he said, “I know tonight was hard on you. I promise it won’t happen again.”
I gave him a small nod, but my tone was indifferent as I replied, “It’s fine. Shirley is more important.”
Alfie’s brows knitted together, but before he could respond, I turned and walked away.
From behind me, I heard him call out.
“Clarissa, you’ve never been this passive-aggressive before. What’s going on with you lately?”
“Shirley is just a guest here,” he continued, trying to reason with me. “She has no family in this city. She needs someone to take care of her. That’s all there is to it.”
Yet, I didn’t turn back. I simply nodded.
He thought I couldn’t see anything. He thought I was blind in more ways than one.
But now that he had unknowingly signed both the divorce papers and my surgical consent form, I had no reason to keep pretending.
Two days later, I took the signed consent form and checked in for surgery.
Just before I lost consciousness on the operating table, I heard a commotion outside.
“You can’t just take my wife in there! What the hell are you doing?” Alfie’s voice was frantic.
