Chapter 4

The doctor was just about to inform Peter that Frost had miscarried once before and never allowed herself to make a full recovery. However, Frost quickly spoke up, speaking over the doctor's voice. "I know my own condition. There's no need for you to ask." Peter sat down beside the bed and watched her for a long time before gently taking her hand. "I asked the chef to make some polenta. Would you like some?" She smirked faintly. "Sure." He opened the insulated container, poured out a small bowl, and scooped a spoonful to her lips. It was the same style of polenta that Melanie liked, and he fed it to her in the same way. Frost slapped his hand away. The bowl flew from his grip, crashing onto the floor. She took a tissue and slowly wiped her fingers. "Sorry, I hate sweet polenta," she apologized. "The chef has worked for us for five years and still doesn't know my taste? What a terrible hire. You should fire him." Peter called someone in to clean up, all the while remaining as calm as ever. "What would you like to eat? I'll have the chef make another batch." Frost didn't answer. He picked up his phone and asked the chef about her preferences, listing the dishes one by one, all the while watching her face for a reaction. Finally, he decided, mentioning, "Shrimp and polenta. Make that one." Frost said coldly, "What happened to me has nothing to do with the Lynch family. You can go now. No need to waste your time here. We're divorced." Peter ignored her. He went to the bathroom, wrung out a towel, and came back to wipe her hands and face. Once upon a time, she'd begged him to stay, and he ignored her. Now that she told him to leave, he still seemed to be ignoring her all the same. Frost threw her cup of water at him. "Get out!" Despite his shirt being thoroughly soaked, he didn't flinch. Instead, he gathered everything from the bedside table and placed it within her reach. "Keep throwing. Once you're done, we'll clean you up again. Being covered in sweat, you'll be the uncomfortable one in the end." She complied, throwing every single thing she could reach at him. When she ran out, he picked them up and put them back for her to throw again. By the third round, Frost's strength gave out. She sat there, motionless, while he wiped her body with the gentleness of someone tending to an old, frail patient. After he was done feeding her, his phone chimed with a familiar tone. He stood up. "Melanie's still recovering. I should go check on her." He didn't come back that night. … The next morning, Frost's friend—the very same doctor—came to check on her and asked, "Why did you hide the miscarriage from him last night? "When he brought you in for emergency care, his whole chest was covered in blood. People told him to get bandaged, but he just wouldn't go until you came out of surgery. Frost, if you'd seen how lost he looked, you'd know he really does care about you." Frost replied, "I know. I was half-conscious then. I felt it." She turned her gaze toward the window. The sharpness of the sunlight caused her to squint. "That's what scares me. I'm scared that if he shows me a little kindness, I'll fall again. My boundaries with him… are paper-thin." But between them stood a chasm, one of a human life. It was one that neither could move past. Peter would never cross that boundary to meet her in the middle. … This round of hospitalization left Frost weak. She stayed in the hospital for five days, then rested at home for another week. For those five days, Peter did something unprecedented. He pushed aside all his work to take care of her himself. During the next week, he claimed to be away on a business trip. However, Frost knew from the photos and videos Melanie kept sending that he had brought her along. Peter used to hate mixing business with personal matters. When they first got married, Frost had offered to travel with him to help with his schedule, but he refused, saying she was too playful and easily distracted. Now? She'd lost count of how many times he'd made exceptions for Melanie. "I told Pete I'd never been to Stanlow, so he took me with him! Your husband is so thoughtful," she informed. "He brought me to a revolving restaurant, a theme park, and he even promised he'd show me more of the world in the future." "He took all these pictures for me. I love taking photos, and he helped me for two hours straight. He's so patient, and talented, too!" Frost had never experienced any of that. She never knew Peter was so softhearted and easygoing, or that he could take such beautiful photos. The irony stung. She was learning about her own husband through another woman. Frost typed a reply. "Where are the photos of you two in bed? Or have you yet to get in bed with him?" The chat went silent. … She tossed her phone aside and called the housekeeper. "Pack up everything that belongs to Peter into a box." This was the home Daniel had brought her, the one she had designed herself when she still believed in love. A week after the divorce, it was finally time for Peter to move out.