Chapter 2The Fire and The Fan Girl

Carter froze. He clearly didn't expect that answer.

He scoffed, putting his hands on his hips. "New tactic? Playing hard to get now? Let me tell you, Harper, it won't work. You’re the one with the dark heart, ruining Bella’s reputation."

While he was ranting, Bella walked in.

Her voice was soft, fragile. "I'm so sorry, Harper. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have asked Carter to take me. I shouldn't have let the camera see us."

She cried big, pearly tears, swearing she only saw Carter as a "big brother."

"Stop bullying her, Harper! Apologize!" Carter barked, his heart breaking for her tears.

Bella handed me a bouquet of flowers. "Please forgive me."

"Don't indulge her, Bella. She's the one in the wrong."

The flowers were in front of my face. I grabbed them and threw them on the floor.

I was severely allergic to pollen. In a burn ward, with my immune system shot, it could kill me.

Carter exploded. "How did you become so petty? Bella is humbling herself, and you act like this?"

Hives started appearing on my neck. Bella gasped, playing the victim perfectly. "If you won't forgive me, maybe I should just die!"

They made a scene until Bella "fainted" from the stress.

Carter scooped her up, shooting me a hateful glare. "You better pray she's okay, Harper. Or I will destroy you."

...

My surgery went well. I didn't see Carter again.

I contacted a lawyer to draft the divorce papers.

A few days later, Carter showed up with a thermos of bone broth. He said he made it himself. He admitted he was too harsh before and didn't realize the fire was real.

"Drink it while it's warm. I didn't know the extent of the damage."

I thought he was genuinely apologizing. But when I touched the thermos, it was stone cold.

A layer of congealed fat floated on top. It was undrinkable.

Carter noticed my hesitation and explained, "Bella is hospitalized too. You know she has OCD and is a germaphobe. She won't eat anything anyone else has touched."

So, he took the fresh soup to Bella first. I got the leftovers.

Germaphobe?

She didn't seem to have a problem touching my husband.

Bella was an orphan, the daughter of Carter's dad's military friend. They took her in. Carter always claimed she was just a "little sister."

Back then, Bella was a crybaby. If she knew Carter and I were on a date, she'd call and cry until he came home. Carter would laugh and call her his "clingy little sister."

I was so naive.

I didn't drink the soup. I handed him the divorce papers.

"Sign it. I already did."

"?" Carter’s face turned green. "Just because I didn't give you the soup first? You're jealous over soup?"

He launched into a speech about how Bella had no parents, how he was her only family. Why did I have zero empathy?

I leaned back against the pillows, too tired to argue.

I knew that while I was in the hospital, Bella had moved into my house. She posted photos on Instagram wearing my silk robes, cooking in my kitchen. They even adopted a cat—knowing full well I was allergic—and called it their "daughter."

"Bella forgave you, Harper. She's handling the hate herself. You don't know how long I spent comforting her. When will you stop throwing this tantrum?"

He thought I was throwing a tantrum.

We used to have a rule: no matter how bad the fight, one person bows their head, and we move on.

Not this time.