The Birthday Gift from My Husband Chapter 1

The shoes Guillermo gave me for my birthday were the wrong size.

I was silent for a long moment before I finally asked for a divorce.

He was bewildered. “Over something so small?”

“Getting me size 7s when I’m a 6 is a small thing,” I said, my voice flat.

“Forgetting our anniversary is also a small thing.”

“Losing your wedding ring, another small thing.”

“And you having lunch with your college crush while I was in surgery… I suppose that’s a small thing, too.”

I pushed the shoe box back into his hands.

“Tell me, Guillermo. What exactly counts as a big deal to you?”

My voice was quiet, but it cut through the air between us. “Let’s get a divorce. Please make some time to go to the courthouse this week.”

Guillermo rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed, the picture of weary patience. “Honey, don’t be like this.”

We’d thrown the word ‘divorce’ around in arguments more times than I could count over the years. He assumed this time was like all the others—a lot of thunder, but no rain.

He didn't realize the storm had finally broken until I placed the signed separation agreement on the table in front of him.

* * *

Guillermo and I had been married for seven years.

In those seven years, he’d climbed his way up from nothing, a scrappy entrepreneur who fought through countless setbacks to become the tech wunderkind he was today. Everyone envied me for snagging such a promising stock.

And by all traditional measures, Guillermo was a good husband. He always told me where he was going, and even after making his fortune, his name was never linked to a single scandal.

Logically, I should have been content. Isn't that what they say online? A rich husband who's never home is the dream.

I tried to tell myself that for a long time.

Until I had to be hospitalized recently. It wasn’t anything major, just a small surgery to remove a nasal polyp. But it was my first time going under, and anxiety had been chewing at me for days.

Guillermo was swamped with work, and as I tried to explain my fears, his patience wore thin.

“It’s a minor procedure, Olivia. Don't be so dramatic.”

His words froze me. Of course, I knew it was a minor procedure. But I’m just a normal person, and normal people have an instinctual fear of the unknown. All I wanted was a little reassurance from him.

He must have realized he’d gone too far, because he apologized immediately. “I’m sorry, babe. I’ll be there with you tomorrow. I promise.”

But in the end, he broke that promise.

He wasn’t there when I woke up from the anesthesia. He never came.

Instead, his assistant showed up with a bouquet of flowers and an awkward smile. “Mrs. Anderson, there was an emergency meeting. Guillermo had to fly to London.”

I glanced at my phone. The screen was dark, empty. Not a single text.

I couldn't pinpoint when he’d become so stingy with his affection that even a simple message was too much to ask for.

I forced a bitter smile. “Okay. I understand.”

Guillermo knew better than anyone that in this city, he was the only person I had to rely on.

After the anesthesia wore off, a throbbing pain pulsed through my sinuses. I wanted to scream, to sob, but all I could do was bury my face in my pillow and choke back quiet tears.

I didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, but when I finally looked up, a figure in a white coat materialized in the doorway, hands shoved casually into his pockets.

My vision was blurry with tears. It was a doctor.

“Do you need anything?” he asked, his voice calm and gentle.

I blinked, my mind slowly clearing. As his face came into focus, a jolt went through me. It was a face I never expected to see again.

A thousand memories flashed through my mind, and a hot blush crept up my neck. “No, I’m fine. Thank you,” I stammered.

He watched me for a long moment, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes, before sighing softly and walking closer.

“Then why are you crying?”

I pointed a shaky finger to my nose. “It hurts.”

I had imagined running into Ethan Cole again a million times, but never like this—a pathetic, tear-stained mess in a hospital gown.

He drew a small penlight from his pocket and clicked it on. “Tilt your head up. Let me take a look.”

Numbly, I obeyed, letting him conduct his examination.

“It looks fine,” he said, his voice reassuring. “I’ll get you some painkillers. Take one if it gets really bad.” He paused, his gaze softening just a fraction. “And try not to cry into your pillow. It’s not good for the healing process. If you need anything, just call. I’m on duty tonight.”

I was completely stunned. All I could manage was a weak nod.

My mind was racing. When had Ethan moved back from abroad? If I had known he was working at this hospital, I would have gone anywhere else.

Thankfully, he was considerate enough to leave after the check-up, giving me space to process.