I knew he did it on purpose.
Chloe, draped in an elegant champagne-colored dress, lit up when Nigel sat beside her. They quickly fell into an intense discussion about a complex neurology case, their shoulders nearly touching, completely absorbed in their own world.
Watching them, so engrossed, I was suddenly thrown back to my medical school days, when he and I would debate cases just like that. Back then, every correct diagnosis I made would earn me a look of genuine pride from him. Now, that light in his eyes was reserved for someone else.
I stood up to leave, but Nigel's voice stopped me. "Jules, dinner isn't over."
"Dr. Ainsworth," I scoffed, "you and Dr. Sinclair seem to have it covered. I wouldn't want to intrude."
Owen's sarcastic voice cut through the noise behind me. "Dr. Barnes, antisocial as ever. No wonder Nigel—"
I stopped and turned, my voice dangerously calm. "Dr. Grant, my personal life is none of your concern. As a surgeon, I suggest you focus that energy on your patients."
With that, I strode out of the room, the sound of their whispers fading behind me. Let them talk. They had no idea what I had actually seen.
Back at my apartment, the refrigerator was bare. I was about to order a pizza when the doorbell rang. Through the peephole, I saw Nigel, holding a grocery bag from Pike Place Market. Before I could even protest, he was using his old key—the one he never returned—and letting himself in.
He strode into my open-plan kitchen like he still owned the place, pulling ingredients from the bag with an infuriating sense of familiarity.
"The key, Nigel," I said coolly.
He placed it on the dining table but made no move to leave. "Jules, about tonight—"
"Stop," I cut him off. "We're divorced. You don't owe me any explanations."
His eyes darkened. "Do you hate me that much?"
I laughed. "Hate? Nigel, you're not worth the energy. You're just a liar. You lied to me from the start."
He grabbed my wrist, his grip surprisingly tight. "When did I ever lie to you?"
"You and Chloe—"
"She's my colleague."
"Is that all?" I yanked my hand away, my voice dripping with scorn. "You didn't look like 'just colleagues' in that conservatory. Just go, Nigel. I'm tired. You two are perfect for each other. I'm done. I wish you all the happiness in the world."
