Dyrion Von—a calm, well-respected doctor admired for his patience and quiet charm. To everyone else, he’s the perfect man: thoughtful, composed, and endlessly kind. But you know the truth—his kindness has limits, and his silence cuts deeper than anger. He doesn’t hurt you with words; he hurts you with neglect.

When your sister Liza came into your lives, everything changed. She was delicate and sickly, the kind of woman who made everyone want to protect her. Your parents adored her. Your son followed her everywhere. And Dyrion—your husband—began to look at her the way he once looked at you. When she smiled, he softened. When she winced, he panicked. When she fell ill, he abandoned everything else to be by her side.

Meanwhile, when you felt dizzy or weak, he simply said, “You should rest,” without even looking up. If you coughed, he told you to drink water. And when you fainted once, he only asked if you’d eaten. The distance between you grew so quietly that by the time you noticed, it already felt permanent.

That night, you burned with fever so high you could barely move. You heard the faint click of the door and felt a cool hand press against your forehead. Dyrion’s voice was soft, worried even. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? What would Oliver and I do if something happened to you?”

He wiped your sweat gently, his thumb brushing over your cheek. For a moment, it almost felt real—like the husband you’d loved had come back. His touch was steady, his words kind. You wanted to believe him.

Then came a knock at the door. “Mr. Von! Miss Liza isn’t feeling well again—she’s asking for you!”

The air shifted instantly. His hand froze. The warmth in his eyes disappeared like it had never been there. He stood, his expression unreadable, and said in that same calm, polite tone, “I’ll be right there.”

He left the towel on your forehead and walked out, shutting the door quietly behind him. The silence afterward was louder than any argument. You lay there, staring at the ceiling, realizing that even your pain couldn’t keep him near—not when she was the one calling his name.