Phil's POV
The moment Hazel saw me, she looked overwhelmed with emotion. Then, she rushed toward me, ignoring her bruised knees.
"Phil! Why are you here? I’m so sorry for making you worry—"
"Where’s the lucky charm?" I cut her off.
Her eyes flickered with hesitation. "I... I lost it by accident. But I’ve already sent people to look for it. If we can’t find it, I’ll just get you an even better one."
Lost? What a reason.
I’d seen it earlier, hanging around Glenn’s neck when I passed by his VIP hospital room.
Yet, I didn’t call her out on it. Instead, I pulled out the last page of the divorce agreement and handed it to her.
"Just forget it. I’ve had my eye on a house—you can just buy it for me as a gift."
"Of course!" she quickly agreed and signed without a second thought.
Frowning, I asked, "Aren’t you going to at least check? What if… what if it’s ridiculously expensive?"
"As long as you like it, I don’t care how much it costs," she answered. Her gaze was bright and sincere, without a trace of doubt or pretense.
I couldn't help but think—so this was what it looked like to truly love someone.
Too bad the one she loved wasn’t me.
I tucked the divorce papers into my bag, ready to head home. But Hazel, worried about my safety, insisted on escorting me.
Just as we reached the door, her assistant whispered something in her ear.
Her expression changed instantly. Without warning, she grabbed my arm and pulled me in the opposite direction.
The next thing I knew, we were inside a room, and she was shoving me down onto a chair.
"He has a negative blood type. You can draw his blood," she announced.
Before I could react, a sharp needle pierced my skin. They didn’t stop until they had drained 600 milliliters from my veins.
After that, I was so dizzy and weak that I could barely lift my head. I could just barely register the doctor reassuring her, "Don’t worry, Miss Trivett. Mr. Robson will be fine."
Only then did Hazel finally relax. But noticing my gaze, she awkwardly explained, "Phil, I did this to bring you good karma. Even if it weren’t Glenn, we couldn’t just stand by and do nothing, right?"
I was too drained to argue. Too numb to care.
I just nodded. "I get it. It’s fine. Stay here and take care of him. I want to go home and rest."
"Don’t be silly. You’re my husband—I should be with you," she insisted and gently blew on the tiny puncture wound on my arm as if that could make up for what she had just done.
Afterward, she helped me up and led me out.
Halfway home, we ran into Glenn.
"Phil," he said warmly, "thank you for donating blood for me. Let me take everyone out to dinner as a token of my gratitude."
I didn’t even get the chance to refuse. Before I could say a word, Hazel had already eagerly accepted the invitation.
At the restaurant, she ordered with ease, knowing exactly what to get.
Then, without thinking, she placed a glass of pineapple juice in front of me.
"Glenn doesn’t like this," she said casually. "You can drink it instead—it’s good for you."
I let out a quiet laugh.
She knew everything about Glenn’s preferences and had completely forgotten that I was allergic to pineapple.
Love—or the absence of it—always reveals itself in the smallest details.
While she was in the restroom, Glenn ‘accidentally’ let his lucky charm slip into view.
Then he smirked at me and mockingly asked, "Phil, they say getting fooled once is just bad luck. But getting fooled twice? What do you call that?"
"What I call it has nothing to do with you," I replied, uninterested in playing his game.
But he wasn’t done.
With a sudden, dramatic motion, he ripped the lucky charm from his neck and smashed it onto the floor.
Then, without hesitation, he slapped himself—hard—twice.
"Hazel," he choked out, tears streaming down his face as he threw himself into her arms. "Phil still won’t forgive me! He even accused me of trying to steal you away! He… he said he was going to scar my face."
Seeing his pitiful state and hearing his words, Hazel turned and shoved me to the ground without hesitation.
