He Missed the Funeral... For Her - Chapter 3: Chapter 3
You are reading He Missed the Funeral... For Her, Chapter 3: Chapter 3. Read more chapters of He Missed the Funeral... For Her.
The next morning, I dragged myself back to the hospital. Even with my father gone, life—and surgeries—didn't stop.
After finishing the operation, I bumped into Dr. Smith, the head of Damon's department.
"Still no sign of Damon?" he asked, his expression softening slightly when he saw me.
I shook my head.
"He's off on some reunion trip with his friends," Dr. Smith muttered, disapproval heavy in his voice. "How does he justify being away this long? Even if there aren't major cases right now, he can't just vanish like this."
My chest tightened like an iron fist was squeezing my heart.
So, that was it. A reunion trip. Not an emergency, not some unavoidable crisis—just a getaway with friends. All this time, I'd believed he was buried under work, too swamped to make it to my father's surgery, too tied up to show up at the funeral.
"Ashley, Damon can't keep shirking his responsibilities like this."
I forced a stiff nod. Damon had always been the disciplined one, the workaholic who never slacked. Or so I thought.
But he'd skipped my father's surgery for Carol's birthday. Maybe he wasn't the man I'd believed him to be.
Since Dr. Smith was asking, and since I couldn't file for divorce alone, I hesitated—then dialed Damon's number again.
Busy signal.
But this time, the sting was duller. Just exhaustion.
One last try. This time, the call connected.
But it wasn't Damon's voice that answered.
"He's in the shower," Carol said, her tone dripping with smugness. "His phone's in the bag. If you need something, tell me."
"When are you coming back?" I didn't bother asking for Damon—I already knew where he'd be.
"We're about to board. Anything else?" She cut in, impatient.
Her arrogance was the same as that night—the night my father died. "Damon's in the shower. If you have something to say, tell me."
I froze. Then, through the tears, I laughed. "Nothing. Just divorce."
Silence. Then, clipped and irritated: "I'll pass it along. If that's all—"
I didn't get it. What gave her the right to act like this? Just because Damon was hers now?
But I was past caring. "Okay," I said, flat and empty.
The line went dead before the word even finished leaving my lips.
After finishing the operation, I bumped into Dr. Smith, the head of Damon's department.
"Still no sign of Damon?" he asked, his expression softening slightly when he saw me.
I shook my head.
"He's off on some reunion trip with his friends," Dr. Smith muttered, disapproval heavy in his voice. "How does he justify being away this long? Even if there aren't major cases right now, he can't just vanish like this."
My chest tightened like an iron fist was squeezing my heart.
So, that was it. A reunion trip. Not an emergency, not some unavoidable crisis—just a getaway with friends. All this time, I'd believed he was buried under work, too swamped to make it to my father's surgery, too tied up to show up at the funeral.
"Ashley, Damon can't keep shirking his responsibilities like this."
I forced a stiff nod. Damon had always been the disciplined one, the workaholic who never slacked. Or so I thought.
But he'd skipped my father's surgery for Carol's birthday. Maybe he wasn't the man I'd believed him to be.
Since Dr. Smith was asking, and since I couldn't file for divorce alone, I hesitated—then dialed Damon's number again.
Busy signal.
But this time, the sting was duller. Just exhaustion.
One last try. This time, the call connected.
But it wasn't Damon's voice that answered.
"He's in the shower," Carol said, her tone dripping with smugness. "His phone's in the bag. If you need something, tell me."
"When are you coming back?" I didn't bother asking for Damon—I already knew where he'd be.
"We're about to board. Anything else?" She cut in, impatient.
Her arrogance was the same as that night—the night my father died. "Damon's in the shower. If you have something to say, tell me."
I froze. Then, through the tears, I laughed. "Nothing. Just divorce."
Silence. Then, clipped and irritated: "I'll pass it along. If that's all—"
I didn't get it. What gave her the right to act like this? Just because Damon was hers now?
But I was past caring. "Okay," I said, flat and empty.
The line went dead before the word even finished leaving my lips.
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