Chapter 3
After returning home, I tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. I needed to do something.
At eleven in the morning, I stood in the kitchen of my Back Bay vintage apartment, carefully arranging fresh lobster meat on French bread.
"Maybe I was too harsh with him," I whispered to myself, Zachary's exhausted yet determined expression from last night flashing in my mind when he said "he's my family." Those words had been stuck in my mind like a thorn all night.
I carefully prepared lemon aioli, mixing it with crisp celery and fresh chives to create the perfect Boston lobster roll. Even though I don't eat seafood myself, I remembered this was Zachary's favorite—and the only way I could express my apology.
"He really was reliable last night." I packed the lobster roll into an elegant lunch box, adding homemade cranberry scones and a small bottle of sparkling water. "At least I should say thank you."
Twenty minutes later, the cardiology wing of Massachusetts General Hospital was filled with the smell of disinfectant. I walked toward the nurses' station, somewhat nervously carrying my lunch box.
"Excuse me, where can I find Dr. Palmer?"
The young nurse looked up, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "Dr. Palmer? He's on the 3rd floor handling a complex case. You are?"
"I'm his wife." I held up the lunch box. "I wanted to bring him lunch."
"Oh!" The nurse's expression immediately became friendlier. "He's in room 3-B, but he might be a bit busy right now..."
Before she could finish, urgent footsteps and a stern voice echoed from the end of the hallway.
"Your negligence nearly killed that patient!"
I turned toward the sound and saw a familiar yet unfamiliar figure.
It was Zachary, but not the man I knew who awkwardly flipped through medical journals at home. This Zachary was like an enraged lion, his white coat billowing behind him, deep blue eyes burning with cold fury.
"If you think saving lives is a game, please leave my department immediately!" His voice was low and commanding, each word piercing like an ice pick.
The intern before him trembled. "Sorry, Dr. Palmer, I'll double-check everything!"
"Double-check?" Zachary's cold laugh sent chills down my spine. "In my department, there are no second chances! Every decision is a matter of life and death, and I will not allow anyone to gamble with patients' lives!"
My God. Standing in the corner, I was stunned speechless by this stranger that Zachary had become. He was so intimidating at work, so... authoritative.
The man who had gently draped his white coat over me last night was now showing a completely different side—stern, professional, unquestionable, like the absolute boss of the entire department.
"Now, recheck all the data, write a complete case analysis, and submit it to my office before tomorrow morning." Zachary's tone softened slightly but remained stern. "This is your last chance to make this kind of mistake."
The intern fled as if pardoned.
When Zachary turned around, he immediately spotted me standing in the hallway.
Instantly, that cold authority vanished without a trace. His expression softened, and a flash of surprised delight appeared in his eyes. "Sunny? What are you doing here?"
The contrast made my heart skip a beat.
"I... I came to bring you lunch." I held up the lunch box, my voice slightly trembling. "I wanted to say thank you, about last night..."
Zachary strode toward me, his hand instinctively moving to roll up his sleeves before realizing he was wearing a formal white coat. He stopped the motion and looked at me tenderly. "You didn't need to come all the way here."
"I wanted to." I felt my cheeks flush slightly. "You did so much for our family last night."
Warmth flickered in Zachary's eyes. "Come on, let's go to the break room."
I followed him into the cardiology department's break room—modern and minimalist, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Boston cityscape. I had just sat down when a sweet, cloying voice came from the doorway.
"Zach! Your favorite Ethiopian coffee!"
A blonde beauty gracefully entered, carrying an elegant coffee cup and completely ignoring me sitting on the sofa. She wore designer clothing, and every movement exuded sophistication.
I immediately understood who this person was.
Brittany Ashford.
The hospital board member's daughter. Zachary's ex.
"Thank you, but I have a guest right now." Zachary's tone was calm, but I heard the distance in it.
Only then did Brittany "notice" me, a flash of contempt in her eyes. "Oh? You must be Zach's... wife?"
She deliberately paused at the word "wife," her tone loaded with implication.
"How interesting. I thought he would choose a more professional companion."
I felt a burning sensation in my chest but tried to stay calm. "Nice to meet you."
"Likewise." Brittany gracefully sat beside Zachary, completely ignoring his discomfort. "I heard Zach say your profession is... party planning, right? Indeed an... interesting choice."
She laughed lightly. "Not like those of us in the medical field who have to handle life-and-death decisions."
Those words hit me like a slap across the face.
"But I understand," Brittany continued, her eyes glittering with malice. "This marriage is indeed quite helpful for his vice chief candidacy, isn't it? The board does prefer candidates with 'stable families.'"
I felt blood rushing to my head. Was this woman suggesting our marriage was just for Zachary's career?
"And party planning is indeed perfect as a doctor's wife's hobby." Brittany delivered the final blow with seeming casualness. "After all, it won't conflict with real careers."
"At least my work makes people happy," I stood up, my voice trembling but firm, "not make them feel superior."
Surprise flickered in Brittany's eyes, followed by a cold smile. "Oh honey, I'm just stating facts."
She turned to Zachary, her tone becoming gentle. "Zach, the board is discussing the vice chief position next week. You know how important image is."
That was the last straw.
I felt my dignity being trampled underfoot, treated like a tool, a prop. I grabbed the lunch box, tears of anger welling in my eyes:
"Enjoy your Ethiopian coffee and your facts, Dr. Palmer."
I turned and rushed out of the break room, the sound of my heels clicking against the floor echoing in the hallway.
"Sunny!" Zachary's voice called from behind, but I was already rushing into the elevator.
The moment the elevator doors closed, I finally lost control and began to cry.
So I really was just a contract wife.
So our marriage really was just for his career.
So all the tenderness and care from last night were just because I was a "useful tool."
I clutched the carefully prepared lunch box tightly. The lobster roll inside had already gone cold, just like my heart at this moment.
Walking out of the hospital entrance, Boston's cold wind hit my face as I wandered aimlessly down the street.
I didn't want to return to that cold apartment, didn't want to face those medical journals and the meticulously organized life.
Tonight, I just wanted to be myself again.
Meanwhile, in the break room, Brittany smiled at Zachary. "She doesn't look very happy. Maybe she's not as strong as you thought?"
Zachary's expression immediately darkened, fury burning in his eyes. "Get out."
"What?"
"I said, get out." His voice was low and dangerous. "Don't ever appear in front of me again."
Brittany's smile froze on her face. "Zach, you can't throw me out just for a party planner..."
"She is my wife." Zachary said each word deliberately. "If you ever dare insult her again, I'll show you the consequences of offending the chief of cardiology."
Brittany's face went pale as she hurriedly left.
Zachary stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, watching Sunny's hurried figure disappearing from the hospital entrance, his fists clenched tightly.
He had screwed up.
Completely screwed up.
