บททั้งหมดของ When Love Betrays : บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

Victoria Bathram had lived with kidney failure for five years.Five years of hospital corridors that smelled of antiseptic and fear. Five years of needles, dialysis machines, whispered reassurances, and nights where pain kept her awake while Gabriel slept beside her, one arm draped protectively over her waist. Doctors had warned her early on—her condition would worsen. A transplant was her only real chance.And then, finally, a miracle arrived.In her fifth year, Victoria was told a compatible kidney had been found.She cried that night Into her pillow. For the first time in years, hope felt real.Gabriel had been her rock throughout it all. Her husband of eight years. The man who never missed a hospital appointment, who spoke gently to doctors, who insisted on handling everything so she wouldn’t worry. He cooked her meals himself because she hated hospital food. He prayed when she was too weak to lift her head. Everyone said she was lucky.That was before the doctor came to the house

Victoria waited until the voices faded before opening her tear-reddened eyes.So it had been Aunt Mary who found the kidney donor.When Victoria had told Gabriel the news, his excitement had seemed real. He had smiled, held her hands, thanked God. She had believed he was happy for her.Now she understood.He had been celebrating for another woman.He had never planned for her to live.Her fingers trembled as she reached for her phone beneath the blanket. She typed a message to Aunt Mary, her heart pounding with every word, begging her to secure the donor immediately—and to keep Gabriel away from the process.Moments later, the door opened.“Sweetheart, you’re awake!” Gabriel said, rushing to her side. His eyes were red, his face tight with worry. “You scared me to death.”He clasped Victoria’s hand and pressed it to his cheek, his touch gentle enough to fool anyone watching.A young nurse nearby smiled warmly. “Your marriage is just too perfect, Mrs. Bathram,” she said with open envy.

Gabriel returned from the grocery store carrying bags filled with Victoria’s favorites.Fresh fruit. Crackers she liked. Soup ingredients. Things he remembered she used to crave when she was weak.He moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, rolling up his sleeves, rinsing vegetables, setting a pot on the stove. From time to time, his eyes drifted toward the living room.Victoria sat quietly on the couch.Too quietly.She wasn’t watching television. Wasn’t scrolling through her phone. She sat still, hands folded in her lap, eyes lowered, as if lost somewhere far away.Something about her felt off today.Gabriel frowned faintly but said nothing, convincing himself he was overthinking again.Meanwhile, Victoria’s mind was racing.Tomorrow.She would leave tomorrow.She needed to pack only what mattered—documents, clothes, a few personal items. Nothing else in this house was worth taking with her. She would disappear cleanly, without warning.As she calculated silently, her phone vib

Night came quietly.It did not announce itself with thunder or rain. It simply crept in, one minute at a time, turning the pale afternoon light into shadows that stretched across the living room floor. Gabriel noticed it only when the clock on the wall chimed softly, reminding him that hours had passed.Victoria still wasn’t home.He stood near the window, staring out at the empty driveway. The porch light had been on since evening, casting a lonely yellow glow over the concrete. Any second now, he told himself. She was probably tired. Maybe Aunt Mary kept her longer than expected. Maybe she fell asleep on the couch there, surrounded by old memories.Yet his chest felt tight.Gabriel glanced at his phone again. No missed calls. No messages.That wasn’t like her.Victoria always sent something—even if it was just a short text saying she was okay. Especially now, when her health was fragile and he hovered over her every movement. She never wanted him to worry.He unlocked his phone and d

Days passed.At first, Gabriel told himself Victoria only needed space.She had always been like that after hospital stays—quiet, withdrawn, slipping into herself as though the world demanded too much from her fragile body. He clung to that belief the way a drowning man clung to driftwood. One night. Maybe two. She would come back once the pain eased, once her emotions settled, once she remembered that this house was still hers.But by the third day, something felt wrong.It wasn’t the silence. Silence had always existed in their home, settling in the corners when Victoria was tired or unwell. It was the absence. Victoria’s absence carried weight. It pressed down on him from every direction, suffocating and unmistakable.Her blanket still lay folded on the couch, the edge frayed from years of use. Her favorite mug sat untouched beside the sink, the faint outline of dried tea still visible inside. Even the bedroom felt different—too large, too cold, the air stale as if it hadn’t been b