Chapter 4 Author: Shy Lucy Zoey's consciousness drifted in and out, slipping like sand through her fingers. It was the second day since Zoey had woken up, yet her voice was still broken. Not a single word crossed her lips. Across from her, Nancy twisted her hands, her eyes red as if the whole world had wronged her. "I... I'm sorry," she stammered, voice trembling. "But... but you started it. You bullied me first." Maxwell stood quietly behind her, speaking for her without hesitation. "Nancy was... immature. It's her fault this time." Zoey didn't react. She barely even breathed. "She's young and reckless. It's normal for her to make mistakes," he continued. "I'll include the house as compensation in the divorce agreement." Zoey sat motionless on the hospital bed. Without warning, she hurled everything within reach. Her voice rasped out in a hoarse, broken whisper, not even sounding human anymore. "Get out. All of you. Get out!" Maxwell didn't argue. His first instinct was to shield Nancy behind him. After that, he stayed by Zoey's side the entire day. Even when her throws left bruises on his face, even when her curses tore into him like knives, he stayed. Just like he used to, sitting by her side, helping her practice pronunciation. But Zoey knew better. Maxwell was a man who couldn't stand owing anyone anything. This-this was him paying off his debt. His guilt. For Nancy. He held her IV bag to keep it warm. He tucked sugar cubes behind bitter pills. His care was so meticulous, so gentle, that for a terrifying moment... Zoey almost let herself believe that he had fallen in love with her again. But that illusion shattered later that same night. Her throat burned with pain, forcing her out of bed to find water. The room was dark, and instinctively, she followed the dim glow spilling from the hallway until the sound of laughter and conversation stopped her cold. Voices. Familiar ones. Maxwell's friends were over, loud and rowdy. She heard Maxwell's voice, quieter but firm. "Keep it down. Don't wake her." His friends chuckled knowingly. Nancy pouted, her voice full of playful complaint. "Maxwell... you've been with her all day. When are you gonna spend time with me?" Maxwell didn't answer. He only reached out and pinched her cheek, a soft, indulgent gesture that sent his friends into a chorus of teasing. They were playing Truth or Dare. The bottle spun on the table, landing in front of Maxwell. Grinning, one of the guys finally asked the question everyone had been holding back. "Bro, seriously... back then, you could've pulled off your revenge plan without teaching her to speak, right? Why go through all that trouble?" Maxwell's expression didn't change. His eyes stayed gentle when he looked at Nancy. "Because..." His smirked. "If she couldn't speak... she wouldn't be able to moan in bed. Where's the fun in that?" The room exploded. Cheers. Laughter. Slaps on the table. And not one of them noticed the trembling figure standing just behind the door. Zoey pressed both hands over her mouth, trying to choke back the sob rising in her throat. She refused to let herself cry. Not here. Not like this. She already knew he didn't love her. She knew. So why... why did it still hurt so much? Her heart felt like it had been hollowed out. The ache was suffocating. All those memories-those moments she once believed were real-turned into blades, slicing her open from the inside out. She stumbled back to her bed. Turned out... she really was the fool. From the beginning, Maxwell had come into her life for revenge. Nothing more. She sat there the entire night, motionless, hands clenched, back straight, staring into nothing. When Maxwell walked in the next morning, her ghostly pale face made him falter-just for a second. She stared hatefully at the guy who no longer resembled the boy she once loved. Her voice broke the silence, brittle but steady, full of loathing. "Maxwell, you don't need to do any of this for me. You disgust me." His hand stilled mid-reach. The words hit sharper than any slap. Her speech caught him completely off guard. Before he could even say a word, she spoke again. Her tone wasn't angry. It wasn't emotional. It just sounded... final. "Four days from now... we're getting divorced. And you're coming with me to see Callie and sign the adoption papers for her." Her lips pulled into a cold, bitter smile. "Any kid stuck with a father like you... it's pathetic."