When He Stopped Loving Me Chapter 5

Claire spent another week in the hospital.

That week, she became a soulless puppet, eating meals, taking medicine, accepting treatment on schedule.

No crying, no tantrums, barely speaking.

When nurses changed bandages, she cooperated placidly. When servants brought food, she mechanically lifted fork to mouth, tasting nothing. The hollow space in her chest seemed filled with numb cold.

On discharge day, heavy gray clouds pressed down, suffocating.

Claire handled the paperwork herself and stood at the hospital entrance about to call a car when a familiar black Rolls-Royce pulled up.

The window lowered, revealing Ethan's cold, aristocratic profile. Rachel sat in the passenger seat.

Claire's feet froze. Her blood seemed to halt.

Ethan's gaze swept over Claire's pale, gaunt face. His brow furrowed imperceptibly before returning to indifference.

Instinctively, he pulled Rachel closer—a distinctly protective gesture.

"Get in." His voice held no warmth, matching the miserable weather.

Claire stood motionless, nails digging into her palms.

Rachel spoke softly. "Mrs. Pierce, please get in. It's windy out here. I asked Ethan to pick you up. I know... there have been misunderstandings. I hope you won't blame Ethan."

Ethan looked at Rachel, his expression softening slightly. When he turned back to Claire, he'd resumed his cold authority. "If Rachel hadn't insisted, I wouldn't have come. Claire, Rachel has shown you nothing but kindness, yet look how you've treated her. I told you—she's my bottom line. Just be Mrs. Pierce. Stop trying to hurt her."

Be Mrs. Pierce?

Claire laughed bitterly.

She wanted nothing to do with this man anymore. She walked around the car, trying to leave.

"Claire!" Ethan pushed open his door, grabbed her wrist hard enough to make her wince. "Enough with the tantrum! Get in!"

His tone dripped with impatience, as if all her resistance was unreasonable theatrics.

Claire tried to pull away, but he gripped too tightly. Fresh from the hospital, weak and depleted, she couldn't break free.

Finally, he shoved her into the back seat.

The car moved smoothly. Claire turned toward the window, deliberately ignoring the painful intimacy in front.

Rachel spoke to Ethan softly, voice sweet and dependent. "Ethan, I think I caught a cold last night. My head feels fuzzy."

Ethan immediately touched her forehead, voice gentling in a way Claire hadn't heard in so long. "Why didn't you say something earlier? I'll have the doctor check you when we get back."

"It's nothing, probably just didn't sleep well." Rachel leaned her head on his arm.

Ethan didn't push her away. Instead, he adjusted his position to make her more comfortable.

Claire's heart felt punctured by countless fine needles, the pain almost making her curl up.

Once, if she so much as coughed, he'd panic, staying up all night to personally give her medicine.

Now all his anxiety and tenderness belonged to another woman.

Just then, Rachel gasped softly, looking out the window. "Oh no! It's starting to rain! Ethan, I left clothes drying on the balcony this morning! That's my favorite pajama set..."

Raindrops began pelting the windows, quickly forming sheets.

Ethan barely hesitated. He turned on his signal and pulled onto the highway shoulder.

He looked back at Claire, pale-faced in the rear seat. "Take a cab home. I'm taking Rachel back to get her clothes."

Claire's head snapped up, staring at him in disbelief. The highway? In the rain? She should get out here?

Ethan seemed to find nothing wrong with his decision. Seeing her frozen, he frowned and added: "Did you hear me?"

Rachel turned around too, apologetic smile hiding unmistakable triumph. "Mrs. Pierce, I'm so sorry... Tomorrow's my birthday. Ethan booked a table at Azure Terrace—just the three of us for a simple dinner. To reconcile after what happened. You must come."

Claire didn't answer. She forcefully opened the car door.

The black sedan didn't pause, merging back into traffic and vanishing into the rain curtain.

Claire stood on the high bridge, rain blurring her vision.

She tried flagging cars down. None stopped.

Icy rain soaked through her clothes, cold cutting to the bone.

Step by step, she staggered along the bridge's edge toward home.

By the time she finally reached the villa, she was drenched, teeth chattering.

That night, she developed a raging fever, consciousness fading.