He Never Hung Up On Me

That afternoon when I had the car accident, I called my fianc Hudson seven times.

On the seventh call, he finally picked up. In the background, I could hear airport announcements.

Enduring the searing pain, I told him I'd gotten into an accident on the South Highway. The car had flipped over, and I was bleeding badly.

"Don't panic, I'll send my assistant over," he said hurriedly. "I need to fly to New York right now. Cecilia's depression relapsed---she took sleeping pills and her emotional state is very unstable. I have to go see her."

Cecilia Lewis---his ex-girlfriend who developed severe depression after their breakup.

After five years together, I'd gotten used to that name being prioritized over mine.

Fighting through the pain, I said, "Hudson, I'm really bleeding a lot."

There was a second of silence on the other end. Then he said impatiently:

"Nina, I told you I'd send my assistant. Don't you trust me?"

Without waiting for my response, he hung up.

Three months later, I got married.

My husband wasn't Hudson.

When friends asked how I could marry Zander Hayes after only knowing him for three months, I said:

"Because he never hangs up on me."

"Ma'am, don't fall asleep. Can you hear me?"

The car cabin reeked of blood. The airbag lay deflated to one side.

I forced my eyes open. Outside the window was an anxious face. He held a window-breaking hammer in his hand.

"The ambulance is almost here. I'll pull you out first. It might hurt a bit---try to bear with it."

I nodded, watching him efficiently break open the car door.

The screech of metal grating against metal was piercing. At that moment, my phone screen lit up.

A message from Hudson.

[Nina, I've already boarded the plane.]

[Stop using injuries as an excuse to trick me. Cecilia can't be left alone right now. Be more understanding.]

Blood dripped from my forehead onto the screen.

The man outside the car glanced at the screen. "Your boyfriend?" he asked.

I closed my eyes, my voice hoarse. "Ex-boyfriend."

He didn't ask further. He took off his jacket, placed it over the broken glass, slipped his hands under my arms, and carefully lifted me out of the cabin.

"I'm Zander Hayes," he said, setting me down on the grass by the roadside. "A doctor who happened to be passing by."

"Thank you." I looked at his blood-stained shirt. "I got your clothes dirty."

He took gauze from a first aid kit and pressed it against my forehead. "Hold this. Don't let go."

My phone vibrated again. It was Hudson's assistant, Andy.

[Miss Nina, Mr. Hudson asked me to transfer five hundred thousand dollars to you. He said if you're upset, go buy something you like.]

[Mr. Hudson is just trying to save someone. Please be more understanding and don't fight with him at a time like this.]

Five hundred thousand dollars---to buy my silence while I teetered on the edge of death.

I didn't accept it. I just locked my screen.

The ambulance arrived quickly.

Zander climbed in with me and briefed the paramedics on my condition.

"Multiple soft tissue contusions, mild concussion, five-centimeter laceration on the forehead."

"Where's the family?" the medic asked. "We need family to sign."

"No family," I said, staring at the ceiling lights.

Zander's hand paused while taking my blood pressure. Then he called out a number. "Blood pressure is low."

At the hospital, a nurse wheeled me in for stitches.

The anesthetic went into my forehead. The swelling pain spread instantly.

I didn't cry. I didn't even furrow my brow.

The doctor seemed surprised. "Doesn't it hurt?"

"I've hurt worse," I said, staring at the clock on the wall.

Worse than this was two years ago in the emergency room, watching the blood beneath me go cold, drop by drop.

Hudson's flight should be landing soon.

Right now, his mind was probably filled with whether Cecilia had taken her medication, whether she'd done something reckless.

As for how much blood I'd lost---

He didn't care.

After the stitches, I sat in the observation room.

Zander walked over with the payment receipt.

"I covered the fees for now. Your phone died," he said.

"Thank you, Dr. Hayes." I took the receipt. "Let me get your contact info so I can transfer the money back."

I borrowed a charger from the nurse's station. As soon as I added him on SnapChat, Hudson's call came through.

"Nina, when are you going to stop this tantrum?" Hudson's voice was filled with suppressed rage.

"Andy said you didn't take the money and your phone was off. Are you trying to make sure everyone knows you're jealous?"

I glanced at Zander sitting across from me and said calmly, "I'm not throwing a tantrum."

"Then why'd you turn off your phone?" Hudson sneered. "Let me tell you, Cecilia's condition is really bad right now. Don't make trouble for me at a time like this. When I get back, we'll talk about the wedding."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"What are you trying to pull now?"

"Hudson, let's call off the engagement."

Silence on the other end for two seconds.

He laughed derisively, his tone dripping with disdain. "Fine, Nina. You'd better not regret this."

The call ended.

Zander handed me a cup of warm water.

"If you need it, I can help you arrange for a caregiver," he said in a professional tone.

"That won't be necessary. I can take care of myself." I took the cup. "Thank you for today."

"Just doing my job as a doctor." He glanced at his watch. "I have a meeting. I should go. If you feel unwell later, come back to the hospital."

"Okay."

Watching his retreating figure, I took a sip of water.

Warm---just right to ease the spasms in my stomach.

I stayed at the hospital overnight for observation.

The next day, gauze still on my forehead, I returned to the house I shared with Hudson.

In the living room, two pairs of slippers sat side by side.

One was my taupe slippers. The other was a pair of pink bunny slippers.

Those were from last month when Cecilia tried to jump off a building and Hudson brought her here to stay temporarily.

At the time he'd said, "Cecilia's depression is acting up. It's not safe for her to live alone. Be reasonable about this."

I was reasonable.

The result? My face wash was replaced with her preferred brand.

The closet gained a row of her pajamas.

Even the succulents on the balcony were replaced with roses because, according to her, they "made her feel depressed."

On the table sat a half-eaten walnut cake.

I'm allergic to walnuts. Hudson always knew this.

But Cecilia liked them, so the house was always stocked with walnut cake.

Once, I ate some by mistake. My whole body broke out in hives and I couldn't breathe.

Hudson took me to the hospital, but only blamed me: "It's written so clearly on the package. You didn't read it yourself---whose fault is that?"

He knew.

But he didn't look.

I grabbed a garbage bag.

I threw in the bunny slippers and the walnut cake.

I grabbed the potted roses from the balcony and smashed them into the trash bin, pot and all.

I started packing my things. There wasn't much.

Over these five years, I'd spent all my energy trying to fit into Hudson's life.

The closet was full of neutral-colored clothes he preferred.

The vanity held the light perfume he was used to smelling.

My phone rang. It was Hudson's mother.

"Nina, I heard Hudson went abroad?" Her voice carried its usual criticism.

"Yes." I folded clothes into my suitcase.

"Really, you should know better. You know Cecilia's health is fragile---why didn't you go take care of her? Hudson's just a man. How could he be as attentive as you?"

I stopped what I was doing.

"Mrs. Barrett, I'm Hudson's fiance, not Cecilia's caregiver."

Silence on the other end.

"How can you talk like that? Cecilia is so pitiful. Why are you competing with someone who's ill? Besides, Hudson has a kind heart. As the future Mrs. Barrett, can't you be more magnanimous?"

"I'm very magnanimous," I said, zipping up my suitcase. "That's why I'm giving the position of Mrs. Barrett to her."

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like." I hung up.

Dragging my suitcase to the door, I looked back at the house I'd lived in for three years.

Our engagement photo still hung on the wall.

In it, Hudson looked at the camera, but his gaze was distracted.

That day during the shoot, Cecilia had sent him a message.

Then he went to make a call, leaving me waiting under the stage lights for two hours.

I walked over and took down the frame.

Face down, I tossed it on the floor.

I pulled my suitcase out of the complex.

Taking out my phone, I messaged my realtor.

[That property in South District---list it for me. The faster the better.]

That was the dowry house my parents left me. Hudson had said we'd live there after the wedding since it was close to his company.

Now, it wasn't needed.

The realtor replied instantly: [Miss Nina, Mr. Hudson contacted us yesterday about that property. He wants to transfer it to a Miss Lewis.]

I stared at the words on the screen. My fingers felt cold.

The realtor called. "Miss Nina, this... Mr. Hudson said you're getting married soon, so the house is joint property and he has the right to handle it."

Standing by the roadside, I said calmly, "Only my name is on the deed."

"But he had your power of attorney and a copy of your ID..."

"The power of attorney is forged. Stop all transactions immediately, or I'll sue your office too."

I hung up and went straight to the police station.

Filed a report, gave a statement, applied to freeze the property transaction.

By the time I finished the whole process, it was afternoon.

Walking out of the station, I opened SnapChat.

On my feed, Cecilia had posted a new update.

[Even at the other end of the world, as long as I'm afraid of the dark, he'll rush over. Next step: moving into our home~]

The attached photo showed a slender hand peeling an apple into a heart shape.

I knew that hand too well.

On the wrist was the limited edition watch I'd scoured the whole city to buy him last year.

Below were comments from our mutual friends.

[Mr. Hudson is still so devoted. When can we drink at your wedding?]

[After all this time, I only recognize you two as a couple!]

Hudson replied to the comments: [Don't talk nonsense. Cecilia needs rest right now.]

No denial. His words dripped with indulgence.

Cecilia couldn't wait to be the lady of the house, and Hudson was paving the way for her.

I liked the post.

In the Barrett family group chat, Hudson's mother was on a passionate rant.

[Young people these days have such tempers, threatening to break up over nothing. They don't even look at their own qualifications. Who'd want her without the Barrett family?]

Several relatives chimed in below.

[Exactly. Hudson is so outstanding, and she still isn't satisfied.]

[Cecilia is such a lovely girl---good family background, gentle personality. Such a shame about her fate.]

I didn't argue back. I left the group chat that had suffocated me for years.

And I blocked Hudson's contact.

After doing all this, the tightness in my chest suddenly disappeared.

I even had the mood to find a hotel and check in.

That evening, I ordered Japanese food delivery.

Hudson used to say takeout wasn't clean and insisted I go to the market to buy fresh ingredients and cook from scratch.

Now, eating salmon, I felt liberated.

Halfway through the meal, an unknown number called.

"Nina, have you lost your mind?" Hudson's roar came through the receiver.

"Why did you call the police? That house would just sit empty anyway. What's wrong with letting Cecilia stay there temporarily after she returns home?"

"Does 'staying temporarily' require transferring the deed to her name?"

"The realtor got it wrong! I just wanted to add her name to give her security!" Hudson spoke as if it were perfectly reasonable.

"Using my premarital property to give her security?" I laughed.

"Nina, don't twist my words like that. We're getting married soon---what's yours is mine, isn't it? You got the police involved at the realtor's office. Where does that leave my reputation?"

He only ever cared about his reputation.

"Hudson, we're not getting married."

"Not this again!" His voice was irritable. "Do you think that by leaving the group chat and blocking me, I'll come running back to coddle you? Let me tell you, if you don't drop the case this time, the wedding is postponed indefinitely!"

"Whatever."

I hung up and blocked that number too.

The next day, I went to the bridal boutique.

The custom wedding dress I'd tried on three times and altered twice hung in the display window.

The shop manager saw me and greeted me with a beaming smile. "Miss Nina, we've taken in the waist as you requested. Would you like to try it on again?"

I stood in front of the window. The pure white wedding dress and the white gauze on my forehead overlapped.

I once thought that putting on this dress would mark the day my five years of waiting finally paid off.

I reached out and gently touched the tulle on the hem.

No anger as I'd imagined. No grief either.

"No need to try it on," I said, withdrawing my hand, my tone calm.

The manager froze. "Then... shall I wrap it up for you?"

"Get a trash bag," I said, smiling faintly at her. "Throw it away."

"Miss Nina! This was hand-sewn by a French designer..."

Ignoring the manager, I turned and pushed open the boutique door.

Just as I reached the intersection, a car screeched to a halt in front of me.

The door swung open and Hudson stepped out quickly.

He wore a trench coat. Stubble had grown on his chin from catching overnight flights. His brow was furrowed in its habitual way, his expression agitated.

"Nina! When are you going to stop this tantrum---"

He'd been about to yell at me, but when his gaze landed on my pale face and the gauze on my forehead, his pupils constricted sharply.

He froze, a trace of panic creeping into his voice. "What happened to your head?"

He instinctively raised his hand to touch my forehead.

Just as his fingertips were about to make contact, I flinched backward.

Hudson's hand hung suspended in midair. Bewilderment flashed through his eyes.

In these five years, I'd always been the one to lean my face into his palm.

I'd never pulled away from him before.

His fingers slowly lowered as he tried to mask his panic with coldness.

"What exactly are you trying to pull?"

His tone softened slightly, but still carried condescension. "To force me to come back, you're even throwing away the wedding dress? Fine, Nina. You win. I'm back."

"I didn't transfer the house to Cecilia either. I'm doing everything your way, okay?"

He paused. "I'll take you shopping for a bag later. Stop being upset."

I looked at him coldly.

A breeze swept past, carrying his cedarwood scent.

Mixed with the cedarwood was a trace of Cecilia's sickly sweet perfume.

On the edge of his collar was a smudge of lipstick.

Before, whenever I detected these scents and marks on him, nausea would rise in my stomach. Jealousy and hurt would keep me awake all night.

But now, I felt strangely calm.

"Hudson," I said, my voice gentle.

He looked at me, relief washing over his face. "Yeah? You done being mad?"

"I'm not allergic anymore," I said softly, looking at him.

Hudson froze, bewildered. "What allergy? Did you eat something wrong?"

"Before, whenever I smelled her perfume on you, I'd feel nauseous."

I tugged at the corner of my mouth, giving him a small smile. "But now, looking at her lipstick stain on your collar, I don't feel anything at all."

Hudson's face instantly drained of color. His lips trembled faintly, as if he finally realized---

I wasn't throwing a tantrum.

I truly didn't care anymore.

"Nina..." He lunged forward to grab my wrist, panic overtaking him. "Don't say things like that! The wedding is still on for next month. I promise you, after we're married I'll absolutely keep my distance from her..."

I didn't struggle. I let him grip my wrist.

His palm was hot, filled with urgency, but I only felt exhausted.

My gaze fell on my ring finger---on that mediocre engagement ring.

Cecilia had casually remarked that "solitaires are too tacky, they have no soul," so Hudson bought me this plain band instead.

I slowly raised my hand, pinched the ring, and gently slid it off.

The ring came off easily---too loose. It didn't take any effort at all.

My finger didn't even have an indentation from wearing it, as if it had never belonged there.

"Nina! What are you doing!" Hudson's voice cracked completely. His grip on my wrist tightened suddenly.

Ignoring his loss of control, I simply placed the ring in his trench coat pocket.

"Give it back to you," I said, raising my head to look calmly at his reddening eyes. "This ring, along with you---neither was made for me in the first place."

With that, I yanked my hand free.

A stark red mark now encircled my wrist.

I didn't even rub it. I turned, raised my hand, and flagged down a passing taxi.

"Drive."