My Husband’s Favorite Doctor Diagnosed My Downfall

She and Barly had dinner together in his office, both of them wearing the newest Cartier couple's watches on their wrists.

[Everyone says we’re a perfect match and I’m getting so annoyed hearing it. If someone misunderstands, they’ll start causing trouble again.]

I stared at the photo carefully. The simple men’s ring that used to sit on Barly’s middle finger was now gone—only a faint indentation remained.

My best friend was so furious that she started cursing under her breath. She grabbed my phone and furiously typed out a long response.

[Who doesn’t know how to be sarcastic?]

Before she could hit send, I stopped her.

I was used to these kinds of story update posts. Ever since Aurel and I added each other, she had posted like clockwork—something small every three days, something dramatic every five.

“Do you think she’d dare mention me so openly?” I asked.

My best friend went pale.

I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when my relationship with Barly had started to shift. But by the time I noticed, every argument between us was soon followed by a new post from Aurel.

Once I confirmed her suspicions, my best friend let loose again—cursing Barly’s ancestors all the way back through history.

After staying at her place for about a month, just as I was preparing to officially file for divorce, Barly called.

He sent me an address, along with just four words.

[Come over. Let’s talk.]

I thought he had finally come to his senses and agreed to the divorce. I grabbed my bag and drove straight to the location.

But instead of discussing our marriage, he’d summoned me… to attend a dinner party on Aurel’s behalf.

“These are all Aurel’s former patients,” he said, glancing at the four girls sitting in the private room. His voice carried a trace of disdain.

“They wanted to treat her to a meal, but she’s too busy and doesn’t want to offend them. Could you go in for her?”

I looked at him in disbelief, feeling like a complete fool for even showing up.

“Absolutely not.”

I shook off his hand and turned to leave.

“I’m filing for divorce. From now on, the only thing left between us is splitting up our assets.”

Panic flared in his eyes. He reached out and grabbed my arm.

“Why are you always so harsh toward Aurel? What did she ever do to you? What about me? What have I done to deserve this from you?”

“Ever since you brought up divorce, you’ve either been cold or sarcastic. Now you won’t even sit down for a meal? Marina, why are you so damn stubborn? It’s just dinner. Eat a little, drink a little—it doesn’t cost you anything. I’ll wait for you outside and take you home afterward.”

“Is bringing up divorce all the time really that satisfying for you?”

“Let go!” I snapped.

He ignored my struggles and forcibly dragged me into the private room.

Before I could say a single word, he introduced me to the guests—on Aurel’s behalf—and then snatched my bag, turned on his heel and walked out.

He locked the door from the outside as he left.

Four women sat behind me, all staring with visible hostility. One of them, a small and delicate-looking girl, stood up and poured me a glass of wine.

“Dr. Grann,” she said, her voice dripping with resentment, “this glass is for you. Thank you for the medical report that made my fiancé dump me on our engagement day. I became the laughingstock of both our families. I still don’t have the courage to show my face in public.”

She downed the wine in one gulp.

The other three followed, rising to their feet and emptying their glasses just as swiftly.

A cold sweat crept down my spine. Something felt very wrong.

“I’m not Aurel,” I said quickly. “If you have something to say, wait until she gets here…”

Before I could finish, a sharp slap landed hard across my face.

It came from a tall, slim woman who’d been quietly standing in the corner. Her scream echoed through the room, shrill and hysterical.