The Rose Wilted, The Marriage Followed Chapter 08

The Rose Wilted, The Marriage Followed Chapter 08

Spring came a little earlier in Southbridge than it did in North Crest.

After my mom was admitted to Southbridge Heart Institute, her recovery was steady.

Julian put together her rehab plan. Rounds in the morning. Therapy in the afternoon.

I went back to work.

Before I left North Crest, I’d put in my resignation.

I’d worked in clinical data management at North Crest Medical Center, handling ethics paperwork and patient follow-up systems for the cardiothoracic department.

A lot of Arthur’s research had my fingerprints all over it, behind the scenes.

He used to say it all the time.

“You’re so much better at the detail work. All I have to do is operate.”

Back then, I didn’t think husbands and wives were supposed to keep score.

I didn’t find out until I was scrolling through old files on my laptop in Southbridge. A revised grant application.

My name had been in the project coordinator field.

In the version that was submitted, it was Clara’s.

She wasn’t a doctor. She wasn’t a researcher.

She was the widow of Arthur’s patient, someone he’d placed in an admin role at the hospital foundation.

I stared at the document for a long time.

Then I gathered every original email, every revision log, every backend record from the IRB portal, and sent the whole package to the research department at North Crest.

The email sent. I closed my laptop.

There was no anger.

Only a cold sense of absurdity remained.

That night, Arthur called.

I answered.

“Eleanor, the research department came to me today.”

His voice was raw.

“Yes.”

“The project coordinator change. I didn’t know Clara swapped the names. I was swamped before the submission deadline. I only signed the last page.”

I stood on the balcony. The sycamores below were just starting to bud.

“You’re always too busy.”

His breath caught.

“I’ve already told them to put your name back. And I’ve pulled Clara from the foundation role.”

“That’s between you and your hospital.”

“Eleanor, can you stop talking to me like I’m a stranger?”

I almost laughed.

“How else should I talk to you?”

“Like I don’t matter to you.”

I let the silence stretch.

“Arthur, that’s exactly what we’re about to be.”

The line went quiet for a long time.

When he spoke, his voice was low.

“The divorce isn’t final yet.”

“I know.”

“I’m coming to Southbridge.”

“Don’t.”

“I want to see Mom.”

“She doesn’t want to see you.”

I’d already shut every door he could use.

All he had left was the truth he should’ve started with.

“Then I want to see you.”

I didn’t answer.

Julian knocked on the glass door to the balcony.

“Eleanor, your mom’s medication just arrived. I need you to sign off on the order.”

Arthur heard him.

His voice dropped.

“Julian’s still there? This late?”

I walked back inside toward her room.

“It’s a rehab unit. He’s on duty.”

“So you’re close now?”

“Arthur.”

I stopped at the door.

“You don’t get to ask me that.”

I hung up.

In her room, my mom was studying her medication box.

Julian handed the clipboard to me.

“North Crest called. Dr. Sterling wanted access to her medical records. I turned him down.”

I looked up.

“Thank you.”

Julian gave a small smile.

“The patient’s wishes come first. So do the family’s.”

I nodded and signed the form.

My phone vibrated again.

Arthur had sent a photo.

The white rose brooch was sitting on his desk, next to the grant application with my name put back where it belonged.

[I’m only now realizing how much you did for me.]

I looked at it once. Then I deleted it.

Some apologies only become noise once they’re seen too late.