Landon had just opened his mouth to snap back at Zinnia, but the icy, mocking look in her eyes stopped him cold.
He couldn’t deny it: from the very beginning, when he’d proposed their marriage contract, he’d only ever thought of it as a formality.
As long as he got married, he could finally silence his family’s endless nagging and get back to living life on his own terms.
Zinnia had been the perfect wife for that arrangement—so low-maintenance he barely had to spare her a thought.
So low-maintenance, in fact, that he’d learned to ignore her completely—her presence, her feelings, her needs.
His anger from moments earlier faded away the instant he met Zinnia’s calm, steady gaze.
She didn’t bother waiting for his reply, nor did she need it. With a soft sigh, she spoke in an even, almost weary voice:
“Landon, there’s not much time left. Let’s just finish out the contract.”
His grip on her wrist slackened abruptly.
Taking the opportunity, Zinnia pulled free and stepped back, putting a few feet of space between them.
“It’s late. You should go.”
Tomorrow, she had a battle of her own to fight. She couldn’t afford to waste more energy dealing with Landon.
Landon stared at her in silence. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, then opened it again, but the words simply wouldn’t come.
He remembered that night, after returning from the hospital, when Zinnia had suddenly suggested ending the contract early.
Back then, he’d thought it was just because Noelle had destroyed all those flowers Zinnia cared for so much—that she was angry, and wanted a divorce out of spite.
But now, he realized she must have made up her mind long before any of that happened.
He couldn’t even remember why he’d bothered coming all this way to see her tonight. He was numb, in a daze, and had no recollection of how he left.
***
The next morning.
Zinnia was just about to hand over her shift to a colleague when the night nurse she’d worked with came running up, breathless.
“Dr. Quinn! You need to check Twitter—someone’s put your name all over it!”
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