Chapter 12
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Though the doctor had said Patricia could be discharged after one day,
Mr. and Mrs. Campbell insisted she stay hospitalized for observation. Timothy agreed.
For five consecutive days, Timothy remained at Patricia’s bedside.
From imported premium recovery supplements to limited–edition floral arrangements, he promptly fulfilled every re- quest she casually mentioned.
The room piled high with exquisitely wrapped gifts.
Patricia snapped a selfie with the gifts as backdrop, asking in a coy tone.
“Timothy, does this angle look good?”
“Does it seem odd at all?”
Timothy nodded absentmindedly, his eyes scanning Patricia’s latest Social Media Feed post–a nine–grid collage fea- turing bracelets and jewelry he’d gifted her, captioned “Favorites get away with anything.”
Shirley’s name flashed among the likes before vanishing instantly.
His fingers trembled slightly as he exited, accidentally tapping their chat history. The last message still read: “I agree to the divorce.”
What exactly was Shirley playing at?
When Patricia left the hospital, she spotted a limited–edition bag Timothy readily agreed to buy.
At the mall, Patricia selected a gray one. As Timothy reached for his card, he suddenly remembered–Shirley liked this brand too.
Without thinking, he told the clerk, “Same thing, two of them.”
The clerk seemed unfazed and quietly placed the bags directly in the back seat. Patricia didn’t notice them throughout the ride.
After dropping Patricia off, Timothy carried the bags home only to find the house empty. Shirley wasn’t home either.
Timothy’s grip on the shopping bag suddenly tightened.
As if remembering something, he rushed into the bedroom and rummaged through the closet–all of Shirley’s clothes were gone.
Even her ID documents seemed to have disappeared.
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Chapter 12
This wasn’t a sudden decision. She had planned this long ago.
He was a bit flustered and started calling her.
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But after several calls, Shirley’s number was so familiar he could dial it by heart, yet the receiver only gave a mechan- ical electronic tone.
“The number you dialed is switched off. Please try again later.”
Timothy slumped onto the sofa.
The messages he sent were all rejected, a sea of red exclamation marks that made him dizzy.
He suddenly remembered the birthday gift the bodyguard had mentioned and rushed madly to the garage.
In the trunk, a silver gift box lay quietly in the corner, with Shirley’s elegant handwriting on the seal:
“For Timothy.”
After tremblingly unwrapping it, it was surprisingly the divorce agreement between him and Shirley.
At the wife’s signature spot, the word “Shirley” was written with great force.
Under the agreement was a note, Shirley’s handwriting still neat:
“Wish you and Patricia happiness.”
Timothy’s hand gripping the note bulged with veins, his nails almost tearing the paper.
His phone suddenly vibrated, Patricia sent a new message:
“Thanks for buying me the limited edition, all my friends are so jealous!”
In the attached photo, Patricia held up the bag he bought, beaming with a bright smile.
Timothy stared at the screen, his throat tight, his mind filled with Shirley.
“How could this happen? Didn’t she love me?”
Timothy muttered to himself in the silent garage.
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