Chapter 33 #3
Several people glanced his way when he entered, though most quickly returned to their own business. At the reception desk, a young nurse looked up from her computer and greeted him with a polite smile. Their eyes met briefly, but there wasn't the slightest hint of recognition in hers.
"Good afternoon, sir. How may I help you?"
"I'm looking for Dr. Olivia Hilton."
"Do you have an appointment?"
"No."
The nurse's gaze dropped to the bouquet in his hands, and her smile widened with understanding.
"Those are for Dr. Olivia, aren't they?"
It sounded more like a statement than a question.
"Yes."
"Well... we've been flooded with flowers, gift baskets, chocolates, and even handwritten letters these past few days." She smiled apologetically. "I've honestly lost count of how many people have been sending things for her. So don't be too disappointed if yours ends up on the pile."
His breath caught in his throat. His fingers tightened around the bouquet. While he had spent the last three days wallowing in whiskey, regret, and self-loathing, people had already begun trying to fill the empty space he'd left behind.
Without another word, he turned and walked away.
The nurse watched his retreating figure with a faint crease formed between her brows. She gave a small shrug then greeted the next patient who stepped up to the reception desk.
There was only one place he needed to look for her.
Dr. Wilson's office.
Whenever Olivia wasn't in surgery, she often stopped by to discuss difficult cases with the senior neurosurgeon. It had become a routine over the years, one he knew by heart.
His pace quickened without him realizing it. A few minutes later, he turned into the familiar corridor. Dr. Wilson's office stood at the end of the hall, its wooden door slightly ajar.
And standing just outside it...was Olivia.
For a single heartbeat, the world seemed to fall silent. He hadn't seen her in days. Yet somehow, she looked different.
Her dark hair had turned a gorgeous shade of brown, the rich color softening the delicate lines of her face.
The sparkle in her eyes and the warmth of her smile were unlike anything he could remember from the final months of their marriage.
She looked radiant. More beautiful than he remembered. Beautiful enough that he couldn't tear his eyes away.
Then his gaze shifted. For the first time, he realized she wasn't alone. A man stood before her, a single white rose in his hand.
Caleb.
His mind refused to accept what he was seeing.
For an instant, he wondered if the whiskey from the past three days had finally caught up with him.
But no. It really was Olivia's former boyfriend.
The man he had spent years convincing himself didn't matter, while secretly hating every reminder of his existence.
Of all the people he had imagined seeing Olivia with, Caleb had never crossed his mind.
From where he stood, he couldn't hear a single word. Even so, his fingers tightened around the bouquet until the paper crinkled beneath his grip.
Olivia smiled as Caleb held out the white rose. She accepted it with quiet grace before gesturing toward Dr. Wilson's office. Caleb nodded, and together they stepped inside. The door closed behind them.
Something inside his chest shattered into tiny, irreparable pieces.
The pain was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He had taken bullets during combat exercises. He had fractured ribs. He knew physical pain had limits. It could be measured, treated, endured. This... This had no shape. There's no blood, nor wound. Yet it hurt far more.
He finally understood. This was what it felt like to lose someone while they were still alive.
He lowered his head and turned away from Dr. Wilson's office. Halfway down the corridor, he noticed a trash bin and he threw the flowers inside.
All this time, he had convinced himself there was still a chance. That if he apologized enough, changed enough, proved himself enough, perhaps one day Olivia would look at him the way she once had.
Perhaps he could earn another beginning.
But the woman he had just seen...
She wasn't the broken Olivia who had walked away from their marriage. She looked lighter. Happier. Her smile no longer seemed forced. The sadness that had lingered in her eyes for so long had faded, replaced by a confidence that made her shine more brightly than he had ever seen.
And suddenly, he understood something so painfully simple. Maybe she hadn't needed him to come back. She needed him to let her go. The realization hollowed him out, but he couldn't deny it.
If he truly loved her-if his love had ever been real-it could no longer be about what he wanted.
Love was not clinging to someone because you couldn't bear to lose them. Love was not asking them to return to a place where they had once been lonely. Love was wanting their happiness, even when you were no longer part of it.
His mother had once told him that loving someone meant putting their heart before your own.
He had never understood those words.
He did now.
He loved Olivia enough to stop chasing her. Enough to let her build the life she deserved, even if another man was the one standing beside her.