Unwanted Goods

My hand was yanked violently, causing the IV needle to stab deeper into my skin, sending a sharp pain through me.

But I didn't answer him right away. Instead, I asked, "Why do you want my ring?"

That ring was something I had painstakingly designed myself. It had taken me months to handcraft it. It was a symbol of our lifelong commitment.

"Sophia likes it," Hugo said casually. "She wants us to have matching couple rings. You should just give it to her. It's just a worthless piece of junk anyway. There are barely any diamonds. It's not worth much."

As he spoke, his gaze landed on the ring sitting at the corner of the table. Without hesitation, he picked it up and turned to leave.

I tried to grab it back, nearly forgetting that my leg was still immobile.

But I still clung to the ring with all my strength, refusing to let go. "Give it back!"

Hugo looked at me with nothing but disappointment. "Katherine, I remember you used to be so generous. How did you become like this? Why are you being petty over something so small?"

I said, "If you insist on taking it, then we're done."

Hugo froze. He fell to his knees in shock, his voice unsteady. "What did you just say?

"You'd throw away ten years of love just like that? Don't you know that I can't live without you?

"I won't allow you to break up with me!"

I looked at him coldly, my heart growing numb. "But, Hugo, you were the one who abandoned me first—for Sophia."

Hugo buried his face in my arms, holding me tightly. "That's not it. I only pity her, that's all. She was so distraught that she almost killed herself—I had no choice but to comfort her.

"Once she's stable, I'll come back to you, and we'll have another wedding. Please, believe me!"

Looking at his earnest, desperate expression, I nodded and said, "Alright."

Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief and leave, but he took the ring with him. He never gave it back.

I touched my now-empty ring finger and picked up the phone to call my former colleague, Isabelle Monroe, who was still overseas.

"Can you check if Professor Harrington still has an open spot in his lab? I want to go back and continue my research."

She sounded pleasantly surprised. "Really? When you left, Professor Harrington was so upset. If he hears you're coming back, he'll be thrilled! I'll ask him right away.

"But didn't you leave to get married? Won't it be inconvenient to live apart from your husband?"

Instinctively, I wanted to find an excuse for Hugo. But then I realized how ridiculous that was.

So, instead, I said, "He's dead. He won't be interfering with my work ever again."

After hanging up, I booked my flight back overseas.

Then, I checked myself out of the hospital and returned home to recover.

Every day, Sophia flaunted her love life all over social media.

I saw photos of Hugo buying her designer outfits and expensive jewelry.

I saw pictures of them holding hands, her fingers adorned with the very ring he had stolen from me.

I saw them taking multiple wedding photoshoots together, and Sophia's caption read: "Three years of being a secret lover—finally, I can love you in the open."

Hugo even reposted it—though he quickly deleted it, afraid I would see it.

To cover it up, he reposted an invitation to his mother, Victoria Reynolds's 60th birthday celebration instead.

Before our wedding fell apart, he had specifically reminded me about Victoria's birthday, telling me I had to attend so we could celebrate as husband and wife.

Even Victoria had warmly held my hands and invited me over.

Even though the wedding never happened, I still brought a gift and went to her house.

But the moment I pushed the door open, I was met with an unexpected sight.

The banquet had already begun, and all the relatives were present.

Hugo was sitting next to Victoria, but there was a space between them, and in that seat—was Sophia.

Victoria placed some shrimp into Sophia's bowl, smiling kindly. "You've lost weight, Sophia. Eat more and nourish yourself."

Hugo cast Victoria a quick glance and scoffed, "Mom, she's ridiculously picky. She won't even peel her own shrimp—she always makes me do it."

Despite his words, he still picked up some shrimp, peeled it meticulously, and fed it to her himself.

I stood there alone, looking out of place, feeling utterly humiliated.

Then, someone finally noticed me and exclaimed in surprise, "Katherine?"