I Divorced Him After He Fed My Father’s Hope to Her Rabbit

My husband made three bids at the auction to secure the rare medicine that could save my father, only to turn around and give it to his college friend to feed her pet rabbit.

I knelt in the pouring rain, pleading with him to show some compassion for the friendship and mentorship he once shared with my father. But instead of any empathy, I received the news that Phoenix Montgomery had taken my place as the lab assistant and was going abroad with him.

It wasn't until the doctor delivered my father's third critical condition notice that I finally reached Silas on the phone. On the other end, Phoenix's voice chimed in, “Your husband is in the shower. Want me to pass on a message?”

Gripping the phone so tightly my fingers turned white, I managed to say in an even tone, “Nothing urgent, just the divorce.”

...

After hanging up, I went straight to the lawyer to draft the divorce papers. Turning around, I noticed Eden, one of my father's former students, arriving with concern. They were shocked that something so significant had happened, and I was left to bear it alone.

I didn’t make any excuses for Silas. Instead, I hugged my knees and crouched in the corner. Just half an hour earlier, I’d seen a picture on his Facebook. There he was, spending all our savings on that rare medicine—with Phoenix, feeding her rabbit.

At first, I thought he hadn’t seen my countless messages, but he found the time to like and comment on Facebook. This time, I could no longer fool myself. I realized our marriage was over.

When my father was taken to the ICU, I went to school to request a leave of absence. That’s when I finally saw Silas, who had rushed back from abroad. It seemed like he didn’t even notice me as he headed straight to Bradley, the director.

“Director, I’d like to recommend Phoenix for my project team, to work with me on the research.”

So that was it; he'd rushed back not for his mentor, but to make sure Phoenix replaced me. My colleagues cast sympathetic glances in my direction before quickly looking away; everyone knew my embarrassment, except for Silas, who didn’t care.

Seeing the director remain silent, Silas impatiently turned his frown toward me. “Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of your dad? Why hold onto this position? You should let it go.”

Days of stress left me dazed, and under Silas's determined gaze, I nodded numbly. Having achieved his goal, he made a curt bow to the director and turned to leave. The breeze from his swift departure carried the scent of the rose perfume he wore, filling my nostrils. My vision blurred, and I stumbled to the ground.

Everyone around cried out in alarm, rushing to my side, except Silas, who never looked back. In my dizzy state, memories of meeting Silas played before me like a film reel. He had always stood out