Ethan dismissed the idea with a sharp gesture. “Impossible. Isabella has been mine for years. She would never look at another man.”

His voice was firm, but uncertainty flickered in his eyes.

Sophia’s expression remained calm, yet her words cut deep. “But yesterday, she asked you to leave her hospital room. She wanted Lucas to stay. You brought her a gift, and she barely acknowledged it. Yet she welcomed Lucas with open arms. Does that not seem strange to you?”

Ethan fell silent, her words striking a raw nerve. The memory of Isabella’s coldness toward him, contrasted with her warmth toward Lucas, was a painful sting.

The antiseptic soaked into his skin, bleaching the wound a ghostly pale. The physical pain was nothing compared to the ache in his heart. He seemed lost in thought, distant.

In the following days, Ethan visited Isabella more frequently. Each time, he brought increasingly extravagant gifts. The room filled with dazzling jewelry and rare antiques.

One afternoon, he arrived carrying a jade statue of the Virgin Mary.

“Isabella, I brought this for your protection and peace,” he said softly, placing it beside her.

She glanced at it briefly, her expression unreadable, and said nothing.

“Do you not like it?” he asked carefully, searching her face for any reaction.

She looked down, her voice cool and detached. “Thank you.”

A heavy feeling settled in Ethan’s chest. She was drawing a line between them. The distance was growing, and it unsettled him.

“Isabella, we need to talk,” he said, moving closer on the bed, desperate to bridge the gap.

She subtly shifted away, avoiding his touch.

“There is nothing left to say,” she stated flatly, her tone icy, as if speaking to a stranger.

Ethan’s face tightened, his brow furrowing.

“Isabella, are you still angry about that day…”

“That day?” she interrupted, her voice sharp with sarcasm. “The day you left me to die?”

Ethan was speechless, his mouth slightly open. He had no defense.

Isabella took a deep breath, gathering herself. When she opened her eyes, they were clear and determined.

“Ethan, I want a divorce,” she declared softly, her voice low but final.

The word “divorce” hit him like a thunderclap. He was completely unprepared.

“Isabella, you…”

“I’m tired,” she interrupted, her voice weary. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Ethan wanted to say more, but she turned her back to him, her gaze fixed elsewhere. Her decision was made.

In the days that followed, Ethan continued his visits. He brought new gifts every day. Isabella no longer refused them. Instead, she collected each item, listing them on a popular online marketplace, selling them off one by one.