Chapter 4 Clarissa looked at me with pitiful eyes and said, "It was all thanks to Mr. Chavez today. Without him, my mom wouldn't even have been admitted to the hospital. "I'm so sorry, Ms. Wheatly. I didn't know you were getting your marriage license today. "Please let me make it up to you. I can help book your marriage registration appointment next time." Knowing she had been caring for her critically ill mother all alone, I was overwhelmed with empathy. Just like that, my suspicions about her and Lawrence faded. But then, she kept messing up the appointments, over and over, forcing me to take a harder look at what was really going on between them. At the same time, Lawrence began defending her more boldly, even embarrassing me in front of others for her sake. It was only then that I realized-what he felt for her was no longer just pity. It was ... love. I hailed a cab to the hospital to have my wound bandaged, then returned home. As I stepped inside, the rich aroma of home-cooked food filled the air. Lawrence was busy in the kitchen-and just then, he walked out holding a mug of soup. When he saw me, he froze for a second. "Take this soup to Clarissa and apologize to her. After that, we can put this behind us." He shoved the scalding mug into my hands before I could respond. When his eyes fell on my bandaged palm, his expression twisted with disdain. "Playing the victim? Nice move. "Honestly, if you have nothing better to do, try reading a book. Improve yourself. "Clarissa and you are worlds apart. When will you ever be half the woman she is?" The physical pain ran deep, but it was nothing next to the raw ache in my heart. I poured the entire mug of soup onto the floor in front of Lawrence. The mug shattered violently against the floor, hot liquid splattering everywhere. I shrugged. "Lawrence, go get some help if you need. "She doesn't even get to be mentioned in the same sentence as me." 0.0 % 08:17 His jawline tightened, betraying his fury. "How could you do that, Ms. Wheatly? "Mr. Chavez made the soup himself! I turned around to look at Clarissa, who was leaning against the door. "You want the soup?" She gawked at me. Before she could react, I pulled her close. "Sure enough, the soup he made shouldn't go to waste. "Go on, have at it-drink every last drop!" I pressed her head down against the floor. She struggled violently, her hands patting and scrabbling at the tiles as she sobbed. Lawrence immediately kicked me in the spine, shoved me away, and pulled her into his arms. "You're crazy, Harriet!" Ignoring his snarl behind me, I turned and walked back to my room. As I looked down at the blood seeping through the bandage, I finally broke. Tears streamed down my cheeks. Standing by the window, I dialed the number my father had given me. "Is 1:00 p.m. tomorrow OK for the marriage license?" I asked. He sounded like he was in a meeting. "Yes," he murmured, his voice soft, "I'll have my assistant schedule it." Shortly after I hung up, the marriage license confirmation arrived. Amidst the ninety-nine reminders for divorce appointments, that one notification was particularly eye-catching. So, this was actually that simple. "It's so late. Who are you talking to?" Suddenly, Lawrence pushed the door open and came in. At the sight of the bandage stained with blood on the floor, he asked, "You were really injured?" 57.2 % 08:17