Sunrise Over the Hill That Night

A drunk man hunted me through dark, empty streets last night while I dialed Chazz Antoon five times.

The first call, I screamed for help. The second, only trembling sobs escaped. The third, the fourth... they rang out unanswered. By the fifth, a notification lit up my screena new post from his social media.

It was Daphne Lloyd, serene in sleep. The caption read: My ninety-ninth successful bedtime.

While I ran for my life, my husband was across town tucking his patient into bed.

I stumbled into a bright, fluorescent-lit convenience store. My reflection in the mirror was patheticdisheveled clothes, eyes wide with terror, clinging to the hope he would save me. How incredibly foolish I had been.

For five years, his psychiatric clinic and my botanical greenhouse sat barely three miles apart, yet he never once offered me a ride. On our wedding night, his phone buzzed for a single second before he snatched his keys and vanished, claiming psychiatric patients were unpredictable and his line must remain open 24/7.

That always-on phone was never available for his own wife.

A cold gust swept through the store. I stared at his post, unable to look away. After a long silence, a dry, mocking laugh escaped me. If he was sleeping elsewhere, there was no point keeping the porch light on.

The botanical research project transfer list was finalized. It was time to pack up and leave.

"Ms. Barlow, do you remember any distinct physical features of the suspect?"

At the precinct, my knuckles turned white as I tried to piece together the terrifying details of the previous night.

Before I could speak, my phone buzzed on the metal table. The caller ID read Chazz Antoon.

I offered a quiet apology to the officer and stepped aside to answer. "It's the weekend. Are you not at home?"

"No," his voice was crisp. "Is everything alright at the greenhouse?"

I swallowed hard. "Yes, it's fine."

"Good."

"Chazz, I have something to tell you..."

I closed my eyes, trying to find the words, but my voice was instantly drowned out by a soft, sleepy murmur from his end of the line. The rustle of bedsheets came through the speaker.

"Chazz..." the woman cooed.

"Go back to sleep, sweetie," Chazz whispered back, his tone dripping with protective tenderness.

The plea to ask him to come home and stay with me died in my throat. My chest felt as if it had been pierced by a cold needle.

"What were you saying?" Chazzs voice returned to the receiver, suddenly formal.

I forced a weak smile. "Nothing."

"Your voice sounds strange."

I dug my fingernails into my palm, letting the sharp pain anchor me. Outside the station windows, the sky had turned a heavy, bruised grey. Rain began to patter against the glass.

"I'm just tired."

I expected him to hang up, but he hesitated. "Get home early, then."

By the time the statement was finished, the rain had turned into a torrential downpour, roaring against the pavement.

"Ms. Barlow, would you like us to give you a ride home?" the officer at the desk offered kindly.

I shook my head and declined with a polite smile. I had already learned how to handle the storm on my own.

I reached the house just as the water began to pool around my ankles. Before I could punch in the security code, the door swung open.

Chazz stood in the hallway. "You're back. Is it pouring out there?"

I wiped the dampness from the tips of my hair. "A bit."

"Why didn't you ask me to pick you up?"

I kicked off my wet shoes, my voice entirely flat. "I called you last night. You didn't answer."

Chazzs hand paused on the doorknob. "I was exhausted last night. I fell asleep early."

Early sleep. Or perhaps, early bedtime stories for Daphne.

I lined up my shoes neatly and caught sight of his damp trousers. The cuffs were soaked through. My gaze drifted up to his face. "Did you just get back too?"

Chazz poured himself a glass of water, offering a casual nod. "The storm was bad. Daphne is terrified of thunder, so I went to check on her."

He could anticipate Daphnes fears in a storm, but he never stopped to wonder if his wife was walking home in the downpour.

"You really care about her, don't you?"

"She's my patient, Iris. It's my job to care." Chazz didn't look up as he opened a takeout container and handed me a pair of chopsticks.

I didn't take them. "She was discharged months ago, Chazz."

Chazz let out a heavy sigh, setting the chopsticks down. "Not this again. Daphne suffers from severe psychiatric trauma. Even after discharge, the threat of a relapse is constant."

He reached out, patting my head with a patronizing tenderness. "Be a good girl. You don't need to wait up for me tonight."

"And what about me?"

"You're different."

Was I different because I was strong, or because I simply didn't matter?

I pushed the food aside as a massive crack of thunder rattled the windowpanes. I swallowed down the urge to beg him to stay, choosing a different approach instead. "Can you drop me off at the greenhouse on your way out? The storm is getting worse, and I'm worried the roof might leak."

Chazz blinked, looking at me in surprise. "I can take you first thing tomorrow morning."

Tomorrow morning? If the roof leaked, all my rare orchids would be ruined by then. "Why not now?"

Before he could answer, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and his expression instantly softened into a smile.

"Alright, get some rest," he said, already reaching for his coat. "Daphne is frightened. I have to go."

The door clicked shut, leaving me completely alone in the silent, dark house.

A flash of lightning illuminated the room, followed by the sharp chime of my phone.

Notification: The transfer assignment has been officially scheduled for seven days from now. Please ensure your personal affairs are in order before departure.

I stared at the screen for a long moment before typing two words.

Understood. Confirmed.

The next morning, before the sun had even cleared the horizon, the front door opened.

Chazzs mother stood on the doormat, carrying several heavy grocery bags. She looked around the empty hallway. "Where is Chazz?"

I took the bags from her hands, placing them on the counter. "It was pouring last night. He was worried..."

Mrs. Antoon paused, then let out a knowing, soft chuckle. "Iris, dear, you have to understand. Daphne was the very first patient Chazz successfully cured. Hes bound to be a little overprotective. You must be patient with him."

I didn't say a word. I hadn't even mentioned Daphne's name, yet she already knew.

Mrs. Antoon hummed a cheerful tune as she unpacked the groceries in the kitchen. Soon, the sound of her dialing her phone echoed through the apartment.

"Chazz, darling, it's Mom. I'm at your place. Bring Daphne over for lunch. I'm making her favorite herb-crusted cod."

As she spoke, a fresh fish slipped from the counter, flopping wildly on the floor and splashing water everywhere. Mrs. Antoon quickly scooped it up, slamming it onto the cutting board to stun it before expertly scaling it.

She caught me watching and smiled warmly. "We're having a fish feast today, alright? I went to the harbor early this morning to get the absolute freshest catch."

She asked for my opinion, but she didn't wait for an answer before returning to her work.

As the kitchen filled with steam, Chazz walked through the door.

Daphne peeked out from behind his shoulder, her eyes crinkling into a sweet smile. "Hi, Iris."

Chazz offered me a reassuring smile, wrapping an arm around my waist. "Are you still angry with me? Do you want me to take you to the greenhouse now?"

"No need," I replied quietly.

"Good. Daphne brought you a little peace offering." He handed me a gift bag containing a hand-knit scarf.

Chazz knelt down to help Daphne slide into a pair of slippers, explaining on her behalf, "Daphne knit this herself. I remembered red is your favorite color. Do you like it?"

"My favorite color is red?"

Chazz looked up, a slight frown creasing his brow. "Isn't it?"

I suddenly lost all energy to correct him. After three years of marriage, he didn't even know my favorite color. "Yes. I love red."

I looked down at the scarf. The stitching was uneven, loose in some places and tight in others. But it looked incredibly familiar.

"The blue scarf you keep locked in your closet," I murmured. "Did she knit that one too?"

"Yes, she did," Chazz replied casually.

I finally understood why he had thrown such a massive tantrum when I accidentally touched it while folding his laundry.

"Why are these slippers this color again?" Daphne pouted, wiggling her toes in disapproval. "I don't like them. Didn't I ask you to replace them, Chazz?"

"My mistake," Chazz said gently, without a hint of annoyance, as he slid a different pair onto her feet. "I'll buy you those pink ones you wanted later today, okay?"

I watched them, a suffocating weight settling in my chest.

Last month, when I was burning with a fever, I had asked him to boil some warm water so I could take my medicine. He had promised he would, but when I finally dragged myself out of bed hours later, the kettle was ice-cold.

Perhaps I should have gotten used to this a long time ago.

"Daphne, you're here!" Mrs. Antoon called out, bringing the steaming dish to the table. Daphne immediately rushed over, wrapping her arms affectionately around the older womans shoulders.

They looked far more like a family than I ever did with them.

Over the last three years, I had visited the Antoon household countless times. But every time I tried to get close, Mrs. Antoon would flinch away, avoiding my touch as if I were a threat.

Chazz had always excused it, saying, "My mother just isn't a physical person."

It turned out she was perfectly fine with physical affection. She just didn't want it from me.

The three of them sat down at the table, their laughter filling the dining room.

"Iris, aren't you joining us?" Mrs. Antoon finally noticed me standing by the door.

I didn't move.

The doorbell rang, and I opened it to collect a takeout delivery I had ordered minutes before. "You guys go ahead. I'm having this."

I held up the takeout container with a polite smile.

I sat down on the floor by the coffee table, peeling back the lid of my food.

The laughter in the dining room died instantly. Chazzs brow furrowed. "Iris, my mother spent the entire morning cooking a fresh meal, and you'd rather eat cheap takeout?"

I ignored him, taking a quiet bite of my sweet-and-sour chicken.

With a harsh scrape of wood against the floor, Chazz stood up, marched over, and grabbed my wrist. "Iris, I am speaking to you."

His grip was tight, sending a dull ache up my arm. The sweet taste of the food in my mouth suddenly turned to ash.

"Chazz, I am severely allergic to fish."

Chazz froze, his grip loosening.

Silence fell over the room. No one spoke, and no one asked why I had ordered takeout anymore.

Mrs. Antoon patted her temple with a nervous chuckle. "Oh dear, look at my memory. I saw the fresh fish at the market and completely forgot Iris doesn't eat seafood. My mistake, dear."

I looked down, offering a small, hollow smile. "It's fine."

I had gotten used to this, too.

On my very first visit to the Antoon home after our wedding, they had asked about my dietary restrictions. Yet, they had served an entire table of fish. It happened the second year, and the third. The only difference was that this time, I refused to play along.

"Well, if you can't eat the fish, you can still have some of the roasted vegetables on the side," Mrs. Antoon tried to smooth things over. "Come, sit with us."

Chazz didn't say another word. He grabbed my takeout box with one hand and pulled me up with the other, ignoring my silent resistance as he led me to the table.

With me sitting there, the atmosphere turned incredibly tense.

I didn't care. I kept my head down, focusing entirely on my own food.

"Daphne, isn't your birthday coming up soon?" Mrs. Antoon asked, desperate to break the silence.

Daphne smiled brightly, launching into her birthday plans.

I finished my meal quickly, setting my chopsticks down. "I'm finished. I'll leave you all to enjoy the rest of your lunch."

Before I could close my bedroom door, Chazz shoved his way in. "Iris, my mother is getting older. Her memory isn't what it used to be."

"And Daphne is incredibly sensitive. If you just walk out like that, she's going to think she did something wrong."

He didn't care about my feelings. His only concern was protecting Daphnes fragile ego.

"Chazz," I said, turning to face him. "Do I really have to walk on eggshells for another woman in my own home?"

He let out a soft laugh, placing his hands on my shoulders. "Are you jealous, Iris?"

"Daphne is my patient. Her mental state is still highly unstable, and as her doctor, I am legally and morally responsible for her safety."

And what about my safety?

I looked down, keeping the words locked behind my teeth. "I'm not jealous. I'm just tired."

I brushed his hands off. As I did, the collar of my shirt slipped, revealing a dark purple bruise and a nasty scratch on my shoulder.

Chazzs eyes locked onto the injury. "What happened to your shoulder?"

It was from the night I was followed, when the drunk man had thrown a glass bottle at me.

I pulled my collar back up. "Just an accident at the greenhouse."

His fingers trembled slightly. "I'll go get some ointment for you. Wait here."

I listened to him. I sat on the edge of the bed and waited for him all night.

But Chazz never returned. I called his phone, but it rang out continuously.

The next morning, Daphne posted a new photo online.

It was a shot of the sunrise from a mountain peak, captioned: The sunrise is beautiful, and the person watching it with me is perfect.

I locked my phone and smiled.

For the next several days, Chazz didn't come home. He merely sent a courier to drop off a bag of medical ointments at our door.

He finally returned the night before Daphnes birthday.

"How is your shoulder?" he asked, walking into the bedroom.

"It's fine."

"Are you... packing a suitcase?" Chazz stopped, staring at the open luggage on the bed with a look of confusion.

I nodded calmly, reaching into my purse to retrieve the divorce papers my lawyer had drafted. "My transfer has been approved, Chazz. Let's sign the"

Before I could finish the sentence, Chazz took a step back, his elbow catching a glass on the nightstand. It shattered against the hardwood floor with a sharp crash.

At the sound of the shattering glass, a sudden wave of panic washed over me, and my body began to shake uncontrollably.

As Chazz knelt down to clean up the water and glass, his phone rang.

In the midst of the chaos, the phone rang for less than a second before he swiped the screen. It was Daphne.

His voice immediately turned soft and comforting, but as he spoke, he reached out and snatched the papers I had laid on the desk to wipe up the spilled water.

Within seconds, the divorce agreement was soaked, ruined, and tossed into the wastebasket.

When he hung up, he finally noticed the missed calls on his screen. "Did you call me last night?"

"Yes."

"Don't call so late next time. It might disturb..."

He trailed off, but I knew what he meant. He was worried I would disturb Daphnes sleep.

He cleared his throat. "Anyway, Iris, tomorrow is Daphnes birthday. I need you to prepare the floral arrangements, just like last year."

Every year, I made the bouquets for her party because Chazz said she loved flowers, and I happened to grow them.

"This year, she wants white tulips," he added.

"And what about me?" I interrupted him.

Chazz paused. "What?"

"What flowers do I like, Chazz?"

"Roses? Peonies?" He frowned, clearly annoyed. "Does it really matter right now?"

For Daphne's birthday, he remembered every detail. But my preferences were entirely insignificant.

"I've prepared the bouquets," I said flatly.

I had made two. One was for Daphne's party, and the other was a parting gift for Chazz, a final marker to end our hollow marriage.

"Good. I'll come by the greenhouse to pick them up later," he said.

"I'll wait for you."

I checked my watch. My flight was in six hours. This would be the last time I ever waited for him.

One hour passed. Then two.

"When are you coming?" I messaged him. My flight was now three hours away.

My message went completely unanswered.

I closed the app, ordered a courier service, and had the bouquets delivered directly to the banquet hall. Then, I grabbed my suitcase and took a cab to my greenhouse.

I had spent six years in this industry, and this greenhouse had been my sanctuary for five of them. Before I left this city forever, I wanted to say goodbye to my flowers.

Just as I was about to arrive, a message popped up on my phone from Daphne.

"Iris, your flowers are absolutely stunning! I took a bunch of them to decorate the main stage. Thank you so much for the birthday gift!"

Attached were several photos.

The moment I saw them, the blood in my veins turned to ice.

I jumped out of the cab before it had even fully stopped. I rushed to the greenhouse doors and threw them open, only to be met with complete devastation.

My sanctuary was in ruins.

Rare orchids had been brutally ripped from their stems, delicate petals were crushed into the dirt, and soil was scattered everywhere. Five years of painstaking labor had been trampled into nothingness.

My hands shook violently as I reached out to touch a broken stem.

I dialed Chazzs number.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to ask him how he could let her do this, how he could walk into my private sanctuary and destroy my life's work without a second thought.

The phone rang once, twice, three times. Finally, he answered.

"Iris?"

I looked down at a rare white orchid, now crushed into the mud. "Why did you go into my greenhouse, Chazz?"

Chazz let out a light laugh. "Oh, sorry, I meant to tell you. Daphne decided she didn't want the tulips after all, and I knew you had plenty of other flowers, so I brought her over to pick some."

"To pick some? Chazz, those flowers were my entire life!"

"Look, Iris, the party is starting and it's really loud here. Let's talk about this when I get back, okay?"

The line went dead.

I stared at the ruins of my life's work. Without a single tear, I opened my settings, blocked Chazzs number on every platform, and boarded the flight to the misty valleys of the Northwest.

He didn't care about the flowers blooming or dying. But someone else would.

[Will Chazz realize his devastating mistake? Unlock the next chapter to see Iris find her true worth and leave him in the dust...]