Chapter 1

On the night of our seventh wedding anniversary, the three of us were camping up in the mountains.

In the middle of it all, my husband, Leo, took a call and drove off in our car.

Later that night, our son suddenly came down with acute meningitis.

I carried him down the mountain to the hospital, calling and texting Leo over and over again.

He finally answered after sunrise. It was his childhood sweetheart, Nina, her voice a soft whisper. "Talia? Leo's still asleep. He was so worn out last night. Is there anything I can tell him for you?"

I stroked my son’s small face, which was already growing cold. "Divorce," I said. "Or death. He can pick one."

...

After our son was cremated, I held the urn in my arms. It was the same size, the same weight, as when he was a newborn.

It’s been three days since he left me. From the hospital to the funeral home, notifying family, friends, and colleagues—I did it all in a numb haze.

It wasn’t until I was holding his ashes that the first tear finally fell.

For the past three days, I've heard a chorus of complaints about Leo. How could a father not be there during the emergency? How could he miss his own son's funeral? It was unthinkable.

As the best neurosurgeon in the city, Leo had spent his life surrounded by praise and flowers. This was the first time he'd ever been scorned by everyone.

But it didn't matter anymore.

They talk about the seven-year itch. After seven years of marriage, I didn’t feel an itch. I just felt pain. A soul-crushing pain.

We were high school sweethearts who went to med school together. I’d had a crush on him for years, and we finally got together right before graduation. He said I was like his scalpel, and he wanted to hold me for the rest of his life.

I believed him. Back then, it just sounded sweet. I never thought a blade could pierce your own heart.

After we graduated, Leo and I both started our residencies at the hospital where my father was the Dean of Medicine. We worked our way up from interns to residents to attending physicians. By the time my dad retired, Leo was the youngest associate chief of neurosurgery in the hospital, a famous surgeon.

He got busier and busier, with endless surgeries and conferences to attend all over the country. So I switched to an administrative role to take care of him, to take care of our precious son.

I thought we would grow old together like that. Until his childhood sweetheart, Nina Clarke, transferred from a county hospital to do a fellowship with us.

They became inseparable. He even started taking Nina with him for out-of-town surgeries.

Leo started coming home later and later, and leaving earlier and earlier. Our son would be asleep when he got back, and he'd be gone before our son woke up.

Our little boy hadn't seen his father in months. He was always asking, "Mommy, where's Daddy?"

I'd thought he was just busy. Until the rumors reached my ears. When I confronted him, Leo explained that Nina was just an old neighbor from his childhood, and he just wanted to mentor her a little more.

I chose to believe him.

I must have been living in a dream. Now, I’m awake.

I found our old classmate, Evan Hayes. He's a well-known divorce attorney, the best in the business. I remember at our wedding, during the toast, Evan wished that we would never need his professional services. Leo and I laughed and said, "Same to you."

It turns out both our wishes were a jinx.

Evan had a heart attack last year while we were having dinner. I performed CPR on the spot and rushed him to the hospital, getting the best specialists to save his life.

Now, it was my turn to need him.