Only then did Katherine turn around.
She spotted me huddled beneath the blankets. Her brow furrowed instantly, and the tenderness drained from her face, leaving it cold as marble.
"For him?" She scoffed. "What a waste."
She walked to my bedside and looked down at me, her gaze dripping with contempt.
"Emmet, are you still keeping up this act?"
"You actually bribed a doctor to hook you up to an IV just to make me feel guilty? Do you have any idea how strained medical resources are right now?"
I stared back at her, expressionless. Silent.
My silence only infuriated her more. She took it as defiance—me giving her the cold shoulder.
"Say something! Cat got your tongue?"
Her voice rose sharply, drawing stares from the patient in the next bed.
"The rescue squad said yesterday you were fine. So why are you still lying around this hospital?"
"What, you expect me to wait on you hand and foot? When did you become so manipulative, Emmet?"
Ferdinand chimed in from beside her, his voice dripping with false sympathy.
"Katie, don't be too hard on him. He's probably just in a lot of pain..."
"You should've heard how he was screaming back there. Poor guy must've been terrified."
Pouring gasoline on a fire.
Katherine's anger flared white-hot.
She grabbed the corner of my blanket and yanked. "Get up! Stop playing dead!"
"Apologize to Ferdy. Now."
I clamped down on the blanket with everything I had.
Not just because I couldn't bear for her to see what was left of my body.
But because I refused to expose my wound in front of him.
It was all I had left. My last scrap of dignity.
"I won't apologize."
The words scraped out of my throat, raw and hoarse—the first I'd spoken since the surgery.
Katherine's eyes went wide with disbelief. "What did you just say? You won't apologize?"
"Yesterday you were covered in blood, howling like a banshee—you traumatized Ferdy! He had nightmares all night because of you!"
"You're supposed to be a man, and you made a complete fool of yourself fighting a sick person for a rescue spot. You don't think you owe him an apology?"
"You know Ferdy has claustrophobia! Would it have killed you to let him go first?"
"You're lying here perfectly fine while Ferdy is psychologically scarred because of you! Are you even a man?"
Every word was a blade, twisting deeper into my chest.
Perfectly fine?
I'm perfectly fine?
I looked at her face, contorted with rage, and something in me cracked.
A laugh almost escaped—bitter, hollow.
This was the woman I'd loved for seven years.
Forcing her freshly amputated husband to apologize. For a snake in sheep's clothing.
I said nothing. Just gripped the blanket like a lifeline.
My eyes drifted to the ceiling. Empty. Hollow.
The veins on the back of my hand bulged. Blood crept backward up the IV line.
Katherine saw that neither threats nor reason would move me.
Her patience shattered.
"Fine. Emmet. You want to play it this way?"
She drew a sharp breath and delivered her ultimatum.
"I'm going to count to three."
"If you don't get up and apologize, we're getting a divorce."
"And I mean it."
The ward fell deathly silent.
Slowly, I turned my head. Met her eyes.
And let two words fall from my lips, quiet as a feather drifting to the ground:
"Then divorce."
The silence stretched, suffocating.
Katherine stared at me, stunned. She hadn't expected me to agree—not like this. Not so easily.
The shock lasted only a heartbeat before fury consumed her.
"Oh, impressive, Emmet. Look at you, growing a spine!"
She laughed—sharp, incredulous—and jabbed a finger at my face.
"So now you're using divorce to threaten me?"
"You think this little stunt will make me feel sorry for you? Make me feel guilty?"
