Sherry Bode was rubbing her throbbing temple when Gilbert Bode's voice cut through the hall. "Sherry, Wendy's been in an accident. You're the same blood type. Hurry up and donate blood to her!"
She had just stepped out of the ward next door, still unsteady. "Gilbert, I passed out from anemia. I just came to..."
Gilbert's eyes darkened with rage. "You faint at the perfect time, don't you? Not before, not after—just when Wendy needs you. Stop the act, Sherry."
He grabbed her arm and pushed her into the donation room. "Draw 700 milliliters. For Room 502. Now," he told the nurse.
The nurse hesitated. "Mr. Bode, we can't take that much. 400 milliliters is the limit. And she... she looks pale already."
Gilbert's phone kept buzzing. His voice got sharper. "Who matters more—someone low on blood, or someone who might die?"
The nurse flinched and started the draw.
Sherry's head spun worse than before. "Gilbert, please... I'm so dizzy. Stop this."
Gilbert was already wound tight with tension over Wendy Mack's condition. "Dizzy? From a little blood? If you're going to fake it, at least put some effort in."
She bit her lip until it stung, fighting to stay conscious. "I really am anemic. I shouldn't be donating..."
He gave a cold laugh. "Shouldn't? Or just unwilling? You're always picking on Wendy, but now this is a matter of life and death! How did you become so heartless!"
As soon as the bag was full, he snatched it and turned to leave. She caught his sleeve weakly. "Gilbert... I'm freezing. I feel like I'm dying..."
He shouted right in her face, "You're still looking for attention now? Sherry, you're such a bummer."
He pulled his arm away hard.
She lost her balance. Her head hit the tile floor with a crack, and everything went black.
Wendy and Sherry were rushed to emergency treatment at the same time.
Wendy came out first. "Gilbert, Sherry donated so much for me. Will she be mad again? I'll give the blood back to her right now."
Gilbert felt a simmering irritation. The Bode family had a full nutrition team. Sherry had the best food, the best care. How anemic could she be?
They could build her blood back later, couldn't they?
Why did she have to be so dramatic?
He put a hand on Wendy's shoulder and softened his tone. "An adult shouldn't act like this. She's faking. I wish she had half your sense."
When they brought Sherry out, she just heard their talk. Her hands were clenched.
Her heart ached more than her body.
Five years of marriage—back when the Bode family was still struggling. He worked day and night, always sick, never seeing a doctor.
She learned enough to be his part-time nurse and cook.
But one call from Wendy in the night, and he was gone. If the lights went out while she was cooking, he'd leave her in the dark and run to Wendy.
When she complained, he called her "difficult."
So she learned to keep quiet.
When they went hiking to watch the sunrise together, in the end, she was left alone halfway up the mountain.
Or when a sudden downpour hit at the seaside, they walked back under a single umbrella, while she ran behind them like a drowned rat.
Even on the highway, a single call from Wendy was enough for him to immediately pull over and leave her behind.
And all she got in return was that same label—difficult.
The Bode family's nursing home was built for the Bode family's patriarch.
But Gilbert moved Wendy in to recover.
She slipped her arm through his. "Gilbert, it's so beautiful here. Let's just stay—you and me."
Gilbert gently pulled away. "Wendy, I have to go back. Sherry's not well. She needs care too."
Wendy lifted her pale face, looking very sensible. "Okay. I'll walk you out."
But outside—
Wendy suddenly stumbled. She looked at Sherry with wide, scared eyes. "Sherry, I'm sorry! I'm only staying here 'cause I got hurt. I didn't mean to take your place. I'll pack and go, I promise!"
She scurried off like a scared little rabbit.
Gilbert grabbed Sherry by the back of her neck. "You're already Mrs. Bode. Wendy's just a sister to me who needs help. Why do you keep hurting her?"
"I didn't push her!"
He didn't listen. "Wendy, you're staying," he said firmly. "No one's making you leave."
Then he came to comfort Wendy.
Then he turned to Sherry. "Since you're so tough, find your own way back."
He drove off, leaving her alone in that desolate nursing home.
Wendy came back, her face now cool and proud. "Sherry, Gilbert doesn't love you. He only loves me. Why are you still holding onto that Mrs. Bode title? Have some shame."
She wasn't wrong.
In Gilbert's heart, Sherry had no place.
Nothing she did could ever compete with one of Wendy's tears.
Her chest hurt, a dull and steady throb.
But it was getting dark. She had to go. She turned to a staff member. "Could someone drive me to—"
"No." Wendy crossed her arms. "I'm the boss around here. Gilbert listens to me. Let's see who dares help her!"
The staff member gave an apologetic look. "Sorry... we did receive the notice to follow Ms. Mack's orders, so..."
So the real wife meant less than the "little sister" he loved.
Sherry laughed bitterly.
On the way back, the sky opened up. A light rain became a downpour.
Her health hadn't fully recovered to begin with, and her vision gradually blurred. Something hit her face—she couldn't tell if it was tears or rain streaming down.
All she knew was the pain. So much pain. Until her legs gave out, and she fell.
When she woke up—
"Sherry, are you stupid?" Gilbert's voice was tense, his face showing real worry for once. It made something ache deep in her chest. "There were staff everywhere. You should've asked for a ride!"
"Wendy wouldn't let them," she whispered.
Gilbert frowned and looked over at Wendy.
Wendy's tears came instantly. "Sherry, why are you lying? I told them to take you home! You refused!
"So you fainted just to make me look bad! To turn Gilbert against me! I've done nothing to you. Why do you keep coming after me?"
Hot anger shot through Sherry. "You're lying! They said they had to listen to you and refused to send me off!"
"Gilbert, if you don't believe me, I'll kill myself right now!"
She ran toward the wall and threw herself right into Gilbert's arms.
He held her tightly, like she was everything. "I believe you," he said, his voice sure.
In that moment, Sherry felt something inside her break. She let out a dry, hollow laugh. She'd forgotten—against Wendy, she never stood a chance.
Seeing the worry on his face, a stupid little hope flickered in her chest.
She took a slow breath and met his eyes.
"Gilbert," she said, her voice clear and steady. "If you walk out that door today, we're done."
