Chapter 2Seven-Year Itch: Divorce Denied

"So what happened? Who took you to the hospital?" the student asked, her pen poised over her notebook.

I gave a self-deprecating smile. "I did."

After he left, I squeezed the sharp corner of the table so hard my hand started to bleed, but I didn't let go. In that last sliver of consciousness, I managed to dial 911, gasp out my address and the door code, and then I blacked out.

I woke up two days later.

When I checked my phone, there wasn't a single message from Alexis.

That's when I scrolled up through our chat history. With a dawning horror, I realized it was almost entirely me initiating contact. Looking at the dates, the conversation was grayed out for nearly the entire past year.

"So, was it just that Alexis was too busy and neglected you?" she asked gently.

I shook my head. "No."

After I woke up, the doctor gave me the all-clear for discharge. I was at the cashier's office, waiting to pay my bill, when I saw him. Alexis. He was at the front of the line, paying for something.

When he got his receipt, I followed him, silent as a shadow. For a wild moment, I entertained a fantasy, a plot twist straight out of a novel: maybe his sudden change in behavior was because he was secretly dying of some incurable disease.

I trailed him to a hospital room. He walked over to a young woman with pigtails.

Her face lit up when she saw him. "Alexis, thank you so much for this," she said, her voice bright and cheerful. "You're so busy at work, I feel bad making you run these little errands for me."

Alexis's voice was impossibly gentle. "You just focus on getting better. I'm here for you."

A hot rush of anger surged through me. I threw open the door and stormed in.

Alexis looked up, first with surprise, then with a deep frown. "What are you doing here?"

"So this is your 'busy schedule'?" I demanded, my voice shaking. I desperately wanted him to give me a plausible explanation, any excuse I could cling to.

Honestly, I was ashamed of myself in that moment. I should have been the fiery heroine from a movie, slapping him across the face and spitting the word "divorce" at him.

But I couldn't.

Alexis grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the room. "Have you lost your mind? This is a hospital, not a place for you to make a scene."

"Make a scene?" I shrieked, all reason gone. "You told me you were busy with work! Is this 'work'? Hanging out with another woman?" My voice echoed down the sterile hallway, drawing stares from passersby.

Alexis was like a robot, his voice devoid of any emotion. "She's my apprentice, a fresh college graduate. Is it a crime to help her out a little?"

Help her out?

All the suppressed emotions of the past few weeks erupted. "I asked you to get me one box of medicine, and you couldn't be bothered! You said you were busy, that I was wasting your time..."

"It's not the same, Anna! You're twenty-seven years old! You're an adult!"

A suffocating wave of despair washed over me. He was right. I had almost forgotten. We had been together for seven years, from the time I was twenty to the woman I was now.

When I looked at him again, my eyes were so red they felt like they were bleeding. But there was no trace of sympathy or guilt on his face. Only impatience.

In that instant, all my strength drained away. I had no fight left in me. I gave him one last look and walked away.