Chapter 1

It all started with a bet, a bet George Stanley made with his ex-girlfriend, a bet that allowed Vivian to marry her secret love.

George thought he could always win yet never expected, that losing Vivian would be his biggest regret.

===============

I am still lying on the bed, naked, with his marks all over my body, when he drops those cold words, “Megan is back. I want a divorce.”

I am shocked at how callus he can be. I haven’t told him about my pregnancy yet.

What should I do now?

Will he forget about Megan and carry on with this marriage if I tell him?

“It is clearly stated in the contract that we can end this marriage if we don’t fall in love with each other in a year. I don’t love you, Vivian. You failed to win my heart.”

He says those words with no emotions, looking into my eyes.

I understand I'll never be able to replace Megan in his heart, so I decide to keep my pregnancy a secret from him.

“Let’s divorce then,” I say

============

Vivian thought she would live happily with her baby away from George and his cold, heartless world. But fate had already made a different plan for her.

She ultimately crossed his path.

“You dared to hide my child from me. Now be ready for the consequences.”

When George reappeared in Vivian's life, everything became a tornado of chaos.

How was she going to keep herself and her child away from him? Would she be able to save herself from getting hurt again?

Chapter 1 End the marriage

Vivian’s POV…

I stand in the brightly lit hallway of the hospital, clutching the positive pregnancy test in my trembling hands. My heart races with a mix of excitement and disbelief as I gaze down at the life-changing news before me.

A surge of happiness and anticipation courses through my veins, filling me with an indescribable sense of wonder.

With newfound purpose, I walk briskly towards the exit, each step filled with renewed energy and hope. A radiant smile graces my lips, growing wider with each passing moment, as I carry the precious secret within me. It feels as though I'm floating, with the joy in my heart propelling me forward.

This is our first marriage anniversary, and I find out that I am pregnant. I wonder how George will react.

I swiftly take out the phone from my purse and dial his number, my heart leaping to my throat with a mixture of hope and nervousness. Thoughts of our journey together, the shared laughter, and quiet moments of connection flood my mind.

As the phone rings, each passing ring feels like an eternity, amplifying the anticipation that courses through me.

I can barely contain my sheer happiness, knowing that in just a few short moments, I will share the most incredible news of our lives.

But the call goes unanswered, and a flicker of disappointment momentarily clouds my expression.

‘No worries. I will go to his office,’ I murmur to myself, smiling.

‘No, you can’t go there,’ my inner voice whispers.

My smile wanes instantly. I recall George's caution against visiting his office, a reminder that our marriage remains a secret.

Taking a deep breath, I remind myself to be patient and to wait for him to return home.

I long for the moment when I can look into his eyes and share the immense joy that now fills my heart.

"It’s okay. I will go home and cook dinner for him." With renewed hope and excitement, I exit the hospital and drive home.

Returning home, I step into the cozy living room, basking in the warm afternoon light that fills the space. The familiar surroundings offer a comforting embrace, reflecting the love and warmth that have blossomed within our home.

Settling onto the couch, I can hardly contain my excitement as I place a gentle hand on my still-flat belly, feeling a connection to the tiny life that grows within.

Whispers of love and protection escape my lips, a promise to care for and nurture the precious gift that now resides in me.

"I know your dad will be as excited as I am," I whisper.

I make my way to the kitchen, the anticipation bubbling within me like a wellspring of happiness. The familiar tasks of preparing a celebratory dinner bring me a sense of calm and serenity, even as my mind races with dreams of our future as a family.

Each slice of vegetable and each stir of the simmering pot becomes an act of love and devotion. I move with a lightness in my step, and a sense of nostalgia washes over me, mingling with the joy that fills my heart.

Memories of how our journey began a year ago flood my mind, intermingling with the aromas of the simmering food.

It started with a contract.

The agreement was clear: if we couldn't fall in love with each other within a year, it would come to an end. I couldn't help but worry at first, knowing that George still carried a lingering attachment to his ex-girlfriend. Doubts would occasionally cloud my mind, casting a shadow on our connection.

Yet, amidst the challenges and doubts, we shared beautiful moments together. We rarely argued with each other.

Those peaceful moments offer glimpses of hope, reminding me that love has the power to grow and flourish.

And now, since I am pregnant with his child, my deepest desire is to preserve the sacred bond we have forged. I wish, with every fiber of my being, that this pregnancy will be the catalyst to cement our love and transform our contract marriage into something everlasting.

The flickering flames on the stove mirror the flickering hope in my heart. The soft melodies playing in the background seem to underscore my longing for a future filled with love and stability.

The anticipation of George's return grew stronger as I finished cooking. My heart is beating faster. I imagine his reaction to the news that awaits him.

Will he be happy? Will he jump with joy?

I yearn for the moment when I will share the news that will forever alter the course of our lives. With a lot of hope in my mind, I get ready. I put on a red tube dress and apply light makeup.

I sit on the sofa in the hall, impatiently waiting for him.

The minutes turn into hours, and anticipation slowly transforms into disappointment. George is late again.

Doubts creep into my mind, whispering fears that he has forgotten about our anniversary or perhaps chosen not to return.

Feeling the weight of exhaustion settle upon me, I contemplate retiring to bed, the hope for a joyful reunion dwindling. But just as I resign myself to sleep, the sound of the front door creaking open pierces the silence. Hope flickers to life once more, dispelling the darkness that has settled within me.

With an eager heart, I hurry towards the entrance, ready to embrace George in my arms. But my steps come to a halt as I see his unsteady steps. The smell of alcohol wafts in the air.

I am a little disappointed, but I still smile and welcome him.

"You are back." I take his briefcase from his hand. "I will help you wash up, and then we will eat."

I reach out to hold his arm, fearing he will tumble with his unsteady steps. Before I can say another word, George pulls me into a tight embrace, his lips crashing against mine in a flurry of passionate kisses.

The briefcase slips from my grasp.

Conflicting emotions surge within me. Part of me yearns for his touch, for the love and intimacy we shared in the past. But another part of me hesitates, worried about the repercussions of our actions, especially with my pregnancy.

I want him to stop. Yet George's intensity refuses to waver. A surge of memories and emotions wash over me, momentarily overshadowing the disappointment and concern that has plagued my heart.

In that intimate embrace, I feel the familiar warmth of our connection, the tenderness that has woven its way into the fabric of our relationship.

Despite the effects of alcohol, his touch carries a hint of kindness and affection.

My fingers instinctively find their place against his cheek, gently caressing his stubble. The taste of familiarity lingers on his lips, evoking a flood of emotions. I longed for the reassurance of his love.

He sweeps me off my feet, carrying me effortlessly toward our bedroom. His strength and the touch of his lips on mine ignite a spark of desire within me, a reminder of the passionate bond we have cultivated over time.

At that moment, I allow myself to surrender to the intensity of our connection and embrace the tenderness that still lingers beneath the surface.

The room around us seems to fade into the background, with the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm and intimate ambiance. Each touch, each caress, speaks volumes of the love that has blossomed between us.

He is covering me with kisses. I cannot help but moan.

Our bodies moved in harmony, a dance of longing and affection.

I find joy and solace in his arms, and the fear leaves my heart. I only relish the sweetness of this moment.

After crazy sex, I lay motionless like a dead fish and watch him go into the bathroom. A smile tugs on the corners of my lips as I wait for him to come out. I can’t wait to see his reaction.

He exits the bathroom a few minutes later and starts dressing up.

I sit up, wondering where he is going at this hour.

"Are you not going to eat?" I ask.

He pauses and glances at me over his shoulder. "I want to end this marriage," he says without a trace of emotion.

Chapter 2 The apathy

As I lay there, naked, with his marks all over my body and a lingering warmth from our intimate encounter, I couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. However, that blissful state quickly shatters when I hear him say those cold, detached words.

Confusion and a growing unease settle within me, like a dark cloud looming over our shared intimacy.

I search his eyes, hoping to find a trace of the love and tenderness that have just enveloped us. But what I find instead is an icy distance, a void that sends a chill down my spine.

His words seem to cut through the air like shards of glass, slicing through the fragile bubble of hope that has momentarily surrounded us.

"I want a divorce." His voice rings out, devoid of any emotion.

The impact of his words hit me like a physical blow, stealing the breath from my lungs. My mind races, trying to comprehend what I have just heard.

Why is he saying this? Was it something I had done wrong? Did I fail to please him just now?

At that moment, I cling to the belief that his sudden coldness stems from my perceived failure to please him. The marks he left on my body now feel like cruel reminders of my inadequacy.

I wanted to explain to him that my performance had been affected by the pregnancy and that it wasn't a reflection of my love or desire for him. But before the words could escape my trembling lips, he silenced me with a dismissive wave.

His next revelation hits me like a thunderbolt.

"Megan has returned," he says.

The name Megan starts to echo in my ears, a haunting melody that shatters the remnants of my torn heart.

The ex-girlfriend he has carried within him, the lingering attachment that has always sparked my fears, has finally returned to reclaim him.

Shock and disbelief wash over me in waves. The weight of betrayal and heartache bore down upon my chest, making it difficult to breathe.

How could he discard the bond we had shared, so callously?

"And don’t forget about the terms in the contract," he reminds me. "It clearly states that we can end this marriage after a year if we don’t develop feelings for each other. You failed to win my heart, Vivian."

His mention of the contract twists the knife deeper into my heart.

I hoped, against all odds, that our love would transcend those constraints. But now, he declares the end of our marriage with harsh words, stating that I failed to make him fall for me within the stipulated time.

This is too cruel.

He turns around and continues, "So, I am ending this meaningless marriage and starting over with Megan. I will send the divorce agreement. Read it carefully before signing it."

Tears well up in my eyes, blurring my vision as I struggle to make sense of his words. The dreams I have cherished and the hopes I have clung to now lie in ruins around me.

The mention of Megan intensifies the ache, cruelly reminding me that I can never fill the void she left behind. I can never replace her in his heart. Even though I know this reality, a storm of emotions rages within me.

I felt the tenderness and affection emanating from him just moments ago, intertwined in our intimate connection. Were those feelings merely an illusion? Had I been blind to the truth, deceiving myself with false hopes?

Questions swirl in my mind, demanding answers that will never fully satisfy the ache in my heart. I yearn to confront him.

But before I could gather the strength to voice my doubts, his phone intruded upon our fragile moment.

I can see how his eyes sparkle when he looks at the phone.

He quickly answers the call. "Megan… Hey, what’s up?"

Megan, the name that shattered my dreams, called him at this hour.

I want to scream, ‘Why?’

His conversation with her unfolds before my ears, each word laced with gentleness and sweetness I never witnessed when he spoke to me. The contrast cuts deeper than any blade, a visceral reminder that I can never match her.

Pain surges within me, threatening to overflow as I realize that asking him any question will be futile. He will never understand my feelings.

The love I poured into this marriage, the hopes I nurtured, had all been in vain.

My heart aches, not only from the rejection but also from the realization that I lost the battle for his affection.

As I blink my tears away, I make a decision. I can't bear the thought of enduring further heartache and clinging to a love that has proven itself unattainable.

"Okay, okay… I am coming. Now calm down. Yes, yes. I will be right there."

He ends the call and slips the phone into his pocket, moving his gaze toward me.

"I am going to see Megan. Take your time to think. I hope you will understand the situation and agree with me."

With a heavy heart, I muster a smile. "What is there to think? We already know the terms. I am ready to end this marriage."

Suppressing my tears, I roll out of bed and put on my clothes one by one, slowly. My hands are shaking, but I try to act normally.

"You start your life with Megan, and I will also start anew. We will be happy in our lives."

It is a bittersweet acknowledgment that I fought my battles and lost. At that moment, I allow a glimmer of self-love to emerge, promising myself that I deserve more than a love that can't be fully reciprocated.

The pain lingers in my heart, an ache that will take time to heal. But I smile at him as I turn around and face him. I can see the surprise on his face.

Why will he be surprised?

Maybe I am still hoping that he will reconsider ending this marriage. Perhaps, I still want to hear him say that he likes me and that he wants to continue this marriage. But I know it is only my imagination.

He has already said that he is going to reconcile with his ex-girlfriend. Why will he say he likes me?

I continue to smile, though it feels hollow and fragile, as I affirm my decision.

His expression twists into a mask of anger. The reasons behind his sudden fury elude me, adding another layer of bewilderment to an already tumultuous situation.

"Are you sure?" he asks. "I mean… you don't have to respond right away. Take your time to think, and… then let me know whatever your decision is."

"I have already decided," I say, knowing he will not change his decision even if I ask him to forget about Megan and stay with me. So, there is no use in wasting time.

"I wish you a successful and happy life with Megan." I offer him a smile.

"I see…"

A dry, bitter laugh escapes his lips, further stinging my wounded heart. Without a word, he storms out of the room and forcefully closes the door behind him, the echo reverberating through the empty space.

The silence envelops me soon. Tears erupt, flowing freely down my cheeks. The ache in my heart feels unbearable.

My hand finds its way to my belly, cradling the precious life growing within.

"I am sorry, baby," I whisper to my unborn child, for the decisions I made in the midst of this chaos.

Although I know it is a bit selfish, I have decided to keep my pregnancy from George. With his power and influence, he will take my child away from him as soon as he learns about it. I have already lost him, but I can’t lose my baby.

It was a choice tinged with a touch of self-preservation, a desperate attempt to safeguard the only part of him.

In this silence, I let the tears flow freely, releasing the pent-up emotions. The path ahead of me is filled with uncertainty, but I’ll navigate it with a fierce determination to love my child with my all heart. I will not let anyone take my baby away.

Chapter 3 The confusion

George’s POV…

Vivian’s response annoys me. I cannot believe that she readily agrees to end this marriage. She didn’t ask me a question. She didn’t even cry.

"Ugh…" I slam my fist on the steering wheel. "Why am I thinking about her? It’s good she agrees to the divorce readily."

As I continue driving, I cannot stop recalling the time we have shared over the year.

Our marriage indeed held its share of beautiful moments. Vivian had been a devoted wife, tending to my needs both inside and outside the bedroom. If it weren't for Megan's sudden return, I might have considered continuing this contract for another year.

But Vivian's rapid acceptance of the divorce catches me off guard. Instead of the expected sadness or a hint of hesitation, her readiness to part ways seems almost eager. It is as if she has been counting down the days, waiting for me to bring up the topic so she can swiftly sign the papers. The thought gnaws at me, igniting a spark of frustration within.

The scene of our intimate moments still lingers in the back of my mind. Those moments are hot, and I remember her enjoying my company.

Why did she moan so loudly if she was eager to distance herself from me? How could she enjoy my touch? How could she revel in the pleasure of our physical connection?

It seems contradictory, leaving me puzzled and disenchanted.

I suddenly remember why she agreed to this contract marriage. Vivian confided in me at the time about her crush on someone, who didn’t want her, and her desire to use this marriage as a means to move on and forget that man.

I can't help but wonder if that man still holds space in her heart and if she has merely seen me as a tool to escape her unrequited love.

Despite my own initiation of the contract marriage and my subsequent request for its termination, a simmering annoyance takes hold of me.

How could she readily agree to move on? Am I simply a stepping stone on her path to finding the love she truly desires?

The weight of this realization bore down on me, casting shadows of doubt and resentment.

"I don’t care," I mutter. "She is free to date anyone she likes. It makes no difference to me. I am going to have a better life than her with Megan."

If Vivian has already set her sights on a future without me, then I have no reason to carry the burden of guilt. I am entitled to pursue my own happiness, unshackled by the weight of a marriage that has seemingly lost its purpose.

With a determined resolve, I propel my car forward, the engine roaring in tandem with my racing thoughts.

Megan's place beckons, promising a familiar solace that I have long yearned for. The allure of rekindling the flame with her intensifies, fueling my desire to leave behind the complexities of this crumbling marriage and embrace the familiarity of what once was.

I finally arrived at Megan’s apartment. I press the doorbell.

After some time, Megan opens the door. She looks sexy, draped in nothing but a towel. A sense of familiarity mixed with desire engulfs me. She flashes an alluring smile. Her eyes, filled with a mix of longing and regret, meet mine.

"George…" She envelops me in an embrace. "I've missed you. I apologize for calling you here at such a late hour, all while knowing the presence of your legal wife waiting at home."

Her face falls as she pulls back and looks at me. "You are not angry with me, are you?" She bites her bottom lip.

As soon as she mentioned my wife, Vivian's swift agreement to the divorce echoed in my mind, intensifying my annoyance and stirring a flicker of defiance within me.

"Megan, I... I've missed you too."

Seeking solace in this reunion, I press my lips against hers with fervor, a desperate attempt to convince myself that I no longer care for Vivian.

She responds with equal fervor, her kisses mirroring her unrestrained desire. Yet, despite Megan's bold attempts to seduce me, I can't help but notice the absence of the same fiery passion that ignited within me when I kissed Vivian.

Something is amiss, and I don’t know what it is. I don’t know why I don’t feel the same fire with the woman I love. I even don’t know why I am still thinking about Vivian, my contract wife, at this moment when I am with Megan, the love of my life.

How can this be possible?

I stop kissing and pass my fingers through my hair, not able to look into her eyes.

Megan holds my shoulders and asks, "What happened? Why did you stop?"

I can clearly hear the disappointment in her tone.

"Are you not feeling well?" She stretches her hand and puts it on my forehead.

"I am okay, Megan," I say, pushing her hand away gently and walking aside. "I… it’s late, and I am tired."

"I know. I shouldn’t have bothered you so late at night." She sighs and comes in closer, taking my hands in hers. "But I couldn’t wait to see you." Her eyes are watery. "I love you, George. I love you so much." She hugs me as she confesses her feelings for me.

I instinctively wrap my arms around her.

"I'm sorry for leaving you a year ago," she murmurs. "I was foolish and selfish, choosing my career over us. I let you marry another woman to fulfill your sick grandmother's wish."

Her words tug at a chord in my heart, stirring a mix of emotions within me. As I gaze into her eyes, a part of me wants to surrender to the allure of starting anew and embracing a future with Megan. Yet, the lingering question remains: Why can’t I forget about Vivian? What is happening to me?

Megan's gaze pleads with me, her eyes shimmering with unspoken desire. "Is it too late, George? Have you fallen for Vivian? Please tell me there is still a chance for us. Marry me if you haven't fallen in love with Vivian."

Caught in the midst of conflicting emotions, my mind races to find clarity. I can't deny the connection I once shared with Megan, yet I am unsure of how to respond.

Why did Vivian’s face appear in front of my eyes?

Chapter 4 The divorce agreement

"George, please. Give us another chance. I regret what I've done, and I'm willing to make it right. I love you." Megan tightens her grip on my hands, urging me to answer.

I keep looking into her eyes, speechless. Maybe I am searching for answers in the depths of her gaze.

"Say something," she urges.

"Megan, you are thinking too much." I finally find my voice. I can’t believe that I am avoiding answering her. "It’s late. We will talk later. I will first go check the lights you asked me to check."

I walk away, feeling her gaze on me.

Megan grabs my wrist, pulls me over, and makes me turn around and face her. Her disappointment radiates from her eyes, penetrating my heart. I want to console her and alleviate the pain I have unintentionally caused.

As she wraps her arms around me in a tight embrace, her words spill forth.

"I know I made mistakes in the past," she says, "and caused you distress. I shouldn’t have left you. I agree that I was selfish… a moron who failed to cherish the love. What a heartless person I have become to hurt you, and I hate myself for that. Sorry, George. Please forgive me."

The resentment in her tone is palpable.

I cannot understand if she is angry with herself or with me… Maybe with Vivian. I don’t know. It’s confusing.

"Megan, please... don't blame yourself," I murmur. "We both made mistakes. I should have waited for you instead of surrendering to Grandma’s pressure."

"But you made the decision to marry Vivian back then because I left you," she sobs. "It’s my mistake. So, it is only me to blame."

Her arms remain wrapped around me, a silent plea for forgiveness and understanding.

"I am back now, and I want to rectify the mistakes I made. I will do my best to win your heart and make you fall in love with me all over again. Please don’t give up on me."

Listening to her heartfelt words, I can't deny the depth of her love for me. I am moved. Yet, I can't help but notice the absence of that familiar spark that used to ignite within me in her presence, even though she holds me so closely, her half-naked form pressing against me. It perplexes me, leaving me questioning my own emotions and desires.

I desperately want to understand why my heart doesn't respond to her the way it once did. Is it the passage of time, the experiences I have shared with Vivian, or something else that has shifted entirely within me?

I stand there with Megan clinging to me, my mind yearning for clarity.

"Megan, I appreciate your sincerity and your unwavering love," I confess, my voice tinged with a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. "Stop apologizing now. We are good. Now show me the light that is not working."

I avoid answering her once again.

She loosens her grip slightly, her eyes searching mine for answers.

I muster a smile.

"Do you want me to fix the light or not?" I ask again, pretending not to know what she is yearning for.

"Come with me." She sighs and leads me to her bedroom. When we enter the bedroom, she points at the bedside lamp. "It was not working."

"Okay. Let me check first." I check it and find that the bulb is not working. "The bulb needs to be changed. Do you have an extra bulb?"

"Can you check in the cabinet in the hall?" she asks as she walks into the closet.

I walk out to the hall and find a new bulb in the cabinet. When I come back into the bedroom, I see her wearing a baggy white T-shirt.

She is not wearing any bottoms other than her panties. Her erect nipples are visible since she was without her bra. Even though she looks like a seductress, I find my desire missing, which is surprising.

I don’t know. Maybe I am too tired. I just want to finish the work here and leave.

I fix the bulb, and the lamp returns to its illuminating glory.

"It’s done."

I turn to her and meet her eyes, which are burning with unspoken desire.

"It’s late now. I should leave."

"What is the hurry? The night is still young. Sit and talk to me for a while." She holds my hands, looking at me nostalgically. "We are meeting after a year. Let me cherish these moments."

Her longing to open her heart to me and reveal the depths of her feelings is too obvious to ignore. But the hour is late, and my excuses spilled forth, attempting to shield myself from the emotional complexities.

"Megan, you should rest. We can talk later."

"Have some drinks with me," she urges, "and we will relish the memories we shared in the past."

"I’d love to. But it’s late now. I have an early morning meeting to attend." I lie to escape.

"Then rest here," she says adamantly.

I chuckle. "Another time. You need rest. Sleep."

I can see the disappointment in her eyes as she nods and allows me to leave.

"Good night."

I can't ignore the pang of regret that tugs at my heartstrings as I walk out of her house. Megan deserves to be happy.

I could have stayed with her in her warm embrace, relishing our past, but I chose to leave. I don’t want to face Vivian either. So, I drive to the office.

The next day…

My mind is a whirlwind of frustration and confusion as I sit at my desk amid mountains of paperwork. I can't focus on anything. Each task feels like an insurmountable challenge, and my irritation grows with every minor issue.

I employed a bunch of fools. They don’t even know how to resolve a simple issue.

"Humph…" I still forced myself to check some files.

Just as the workday is nearing its end, there is an unexpected knock on my office door. The interruption makes me frown.

"Come in…"

A middle-aged man enters.

My frown deepens as I continue to look at him. Who is he?

"Mr. Stanley, I am Vivian Simons’ lawyer."

He hands me a stack of papers.

The divorce agreement.

My annoyance turns to fury when I read those words.

I clench my fists tightly. How dare she send me a divorce agreement?

It is my decision, my prerogative to end this marriage whenever I deem fit. I want to tear the documents to shreds and throw them into the trash can.

Since I cannot do this, I look up to say something, but he is gone.

"What? Ugh…"

I shove the documents into the drawer and leave the office.

When I reach home, I see Vivian's suitcase tucked away in the corner of the hall. It intensifies my already mounting annoyance.

I don’t know why I feel that my entire world is crumbling around me. I can’t think of Vivian going away from me. But why?

I don’t love her. It's Megan, whom I always love.

My thoughts are a tangled mess of anger, confusion, and a deep-rooted sense of loss. I wanted to end this marriage. Shouldn’t I be happy? I can't comprehend why I feel this restlessness.

"I have to figure it out," I mutter, taking out a bottle of wine from the fridge.

I sit at the table and pour myself a drink. The once cheerful house is silent now, and this silence is only adding to my inner turmoil.

She used to welcome me whenever I returned home from the office. But tonight, she didn’t come out.

Does she even know that I am home?

My frustration grows, and I cannot sit quietly any longer. I storm into the bedroom, determined to question her.

"She dares to send me the divorce papers," I mutter. "I will show her who is the boss here."

I come to a halt as I see Vivian sleeping blissfully in her pink satin nightgown, her beautiful features glowing beneath the warm light of the nightstand.

I can't deny the allure she exudes; the curve of her body is tempting me. I cannot stop watching her.

She looks attractive.

When my eyes land on the marks I left on her neck last night, I can no longer control my desires. I lean in and press my lips against her skin, relishing the taste and the warmth it ignites within me.

Hormones surge into my veins.

I lie beside her and take her into my arms, kissing her lips fervently.

Vivian stirs, her eyes fluttering open, confusion and resistance evident in her expression. But I can't restrain my own growing intensity.

"George… mm…"

I kiss her even harder, hugging her tightly.

"Stop, George. We can't do this." She tries to push me away.

"Why?" I growl, irritated.

"We are getting a divorce, remember?" she reminds me, still struggling to break free.

Her words irritate me even more.

I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know why I want her so much. My brain is not in a state to think straight. All I want at this moment is Vivian.

I want to see her surrender to me.

I smirk and say, "Well, I haven’t signed it yet. You are still my wife, and you have obligations to satisfy your husband."

I smack my lips against hers, this time more fiercely.

Chapter 5 Conflicting emotions

I wake up early, the morning light casting a gentle glow across the room. I step into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. The events of last night play on a loop in my mind, leaving me tangled in a web of confusion.

Why hasn't George signed the divorce agreement I sent him? Wasn't he the one who said he wanted to end this marriage?

I can't make sense of his contradictory actions and words. On one hand, he insists on demanding my intimacy and treating me as his wife; on the other, he claims he wants to sever our ties.

The weight of his expectations burdens me. How can he ask me to fulfill the duties of a wife while simultaneously declaring his intention to leave? It's a paradox I can't decipher.

Does he truly want to end this marriage, or is a part of him still yearning for something more?

Confusion swirls within me like a storm, and I struggle to find solid ground amidst the tempest of my emotions. I thought I knew where we stood, but now I question everything.

Ding-Dong…

The sound of the doorbell disrupts the peaceful morning air, stirring a mix of curiosity and apprehension within me.

"Who could be visiting at such an early hour?"

With cautious steps, I make my way to the door.

As I swing the door open, my breath catches in my throat. Standing before me is Megan, wearing a sly smirk that sends a shiver down my spine. Her presence alone is enough to ignite a storm of emotions within me.

"Good morning, Vivian." She walks into the house confidently as if she is the mistress of the house.

She wastes no time taunting me, mentioning George's grandmother's upcoming birthday party.

"George used to invite me every year," she adds. "Last year, I wasn’t here and couldn’t attend the party. Since I am back, I won’t miss this time. I am going to buy a birthday gift for her with George."

The realization that he always invited Megan to these family gatherings hits me like a sudden gust of wind, and I struggle to maintain composure. It's a painful reminder of their shared history, a connection that I can't seem to sever.

Before I can gather my thoughts, George emerges from the room, dressed immaculately, betraying that he was already aware of Megan's arrival.

"George…" Megan rushes over to him and hooks her arms around his neck. "Good morning."

She plants a kiss on his cheek.

The sight of them together stings, as if a thousand needles pierce my heart. I remain standing there, my face a mask of indifference, determined not to reveal the depth of my emotions.

"Good morning." He returns her smile.

The pang of pain intensifies, but I refuse to let it show. Instead, I turn my back and retreat into the kitchen, seeking solace within the confines of familiar surroundings.

I busily set the table for breakfast, my movements mechanical. I try to drown out their presence, the laughter, and the shared memories that once belonged solely to George and me.

"Pancakes!" Megan walks up to the dining area, her face full of surprise. "George, you still like to eat pancakes at breakfast!" She exclaimed with delight. "Awe… you haven’t forgotten even after a year that I love pancakes."

The corners of my lips hook slightly into a sneer as her words reach my ears.

I had never known about Megan's fondness for pancakes, and yet it seems to have become a shared preference between her and George.

How could I, in the span of a year, fail to create even a ripple within his heart?

The realization hits me like a heavy blow. I had naively believed that our time together, our shared experiences, and our intimate moments had fostered a genuine connection. His actions, his tender gestures, had led me to believe that he had fallen in love with me.

How foolish I was to have been swayed by his impeccable acting, and his portrayal of a devoted husband.

George, ever the gentleman, adeptly played the role of a loving husband, masking his true feelings with grace. But now, it becomes clear to me that he had never truly let go of Megan.

His heart still yearns for her, despite the passing of time and the charade we have been living. He had merely fulfilled his responsibilities, adhering to the duties he deemed necessary.

The truth is a bitter pill to swallow, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. At this moment, I understand the depth of my own naivety.

I had hoped that perhaps, against all odds, I could ignite a spark within George's heart and become the one he truly loved. But it seems that destiny has other plans, firmly aligning George's affections with another.

I gaze at them, sharing a moment of nostalgic joy over a plate of pancakes. Their connection, unbroken by time and separation, is a painful reminder of the love that remains beyond my grasp.

I gather my strength, ready to face the reality that lies before me. I must find the courage to let go, to release myself from the grip of a love that was never truly mine. Swallowing my disappointment, I bury my own desires deep within my heart.

A sudden wave of morning sickness overwhelms me. With an urgent need to escape, I rush toward the bathroom.

"Vivian…" George's worried voice fills the air.

His concern rings hollow in my ears, tinged with a hint of hypocrisy.

"Are you okay?"

I take my time to answer him. Through my peripheral view, I can see him standing by the door.

"Why didn't you say you weren't feeling well?"

I manage to compose myself, rinsing my mouth with water.

"I am fine. It’s a minor issue. Perhaps, I ate something that wasn’t fresh enough." My response is calm, almost detached.

"I am taking you to the hospital," he says authoritatively.

"I am a doctor and capable of taking care of myself." I try to protest.

George, ever persistent, refuses to listen to my reassurances.

"You are coming with me and that’s final. Don’t make me repeat myself."

He pays no heed to my words, already heading towards the door with a resolute determination. It is as if his decision is final, leaving me with little say in the matter.

In the midst of our exchange, Megan stands there as a mere spectator to this unfolding scene.

George stops right beside her and says, "I am taking you to the mall first."

With that, he walks out the door.

His priorities are clear, and his agenda is already set. And within this whirlwind of events, I am left feeling like a passenger, my voice silenced, my wishes dismissed.

As George's footsteps fade in the distance, I am left standing there, grappling with a mix of emotions. Frustration intertwines with resignation; my thoughts are a jumble of conflicting feelings.

I sigh and stroll to the bedroom to bring my purse. When I come out, I spot Megan in the hall. A flicker of surprise dances within me as I wonder why she is still here instead of going out with George.

Her stern expression sends a chill down my spine, foreshadowing an impending confrontation.

Megan approaches me.

"Don't mistake George's polite gestures out of guilt for his love for you. You should know better." Her voice is dripping with coldness as she delivers her words with calculated precision.

I meet Megan's gaze unwaveringly, my indifference veiling the underlying emotions that swirl beneath the surface. I refuse to allow her assumptions and judgments to seep into my psyche.

"I am not misunderstanding anything. Rest assured, Megan."

I stand tall, my defenses fortified.

Megan's presence, her possessiveness—it all serves as a painful reminder that George's heart still lingers elsewhere, in a place that I cannot reach. But I refuse to let her belittlement diminish my resolve.

"You shouldn’t feel insecure when you believe in yourself."

I square my shoulders and walk out.

Chapter 6 The delay in signing the divorce papers.

The shopping was done quickly. It seemed like George was rushing as if he couldn’t wait to get out of the mall.

I didn’t like to follow them like an outsider. So, I am relieved when we come out.

"Megan, I won’t be able to drop you home," George says. "Can you please take a taxi?"

This is surprising. I was not expecting him to say that. I anticipated that he would drop her off at her place first before taking me to the hospital.

Honestly, I wouldn’t have minded if he did that because I didn’t want to go for a check-up with him. But he actually asked Megan to leave on her own.

I curiously peer at her, who has a sullen look on her face.

Megan is certainly unhappy, and I know she is going to nag him to take her home first.

"It’s okay. I will take a taxi. You should look after Vivian."

I am stunned yet again. I can clearly tell that she is not happy, but she is smiling.

She is trying to show her empathy.

I don’t need that. I am irritated and too lazy to see all this drama, so I hop into the car.

George stops a taxi for her and opens the door for her. Megan hugs him before stepping in.

I watch them through the wing mirror, my heart aching. I realize he has canceled his plans with Megan because of me. Truly speaking, I don’t feel good. It gives me the impression that I am a third wheel, which I don’t want to be.

He gets into the car and starts driving.

The tension between us is palpable. I can't help but fidget with my fingers, a nervous energy coursing through me. The silence weighs heavily, suffocating the space between us. It's a stark reminder of the divide that has grown between us.

Unable to bear the silence any longer, I break it with an apology, my voice laced with remorse.

"I'm sorry, George. You had to cancel your plans with Megan because of me."

I can feel the weight of my presence burdening him.

"You don't need to feel sorry. Taking care of you is my responsibility. We are still married, after all."

His voice is gentle, and his expression is calm. But his response catches me off guard, his words carrying a different meaning than I anticipated.

For a moment, confusion clouds my mind.

Did he just imply that he was burdened by our marriage? That he resented the fact that we were still bound together?

The realization stings, and a mixture of hurt and resignation washes over me.

Summoning my strength, I respond with a measured tone, "Oh, I see. Well, there's no discrepancy in the divorce agreement. You can sign it whenever you want."

My words are steady and controlled as I try to maintain my composure.

But beneath my calm façade, a storm rages within me. The pain of our crumbling relationship lingers, with each passing moment a reminder of the love that once thrived between us.

"I won't forget to sign it, Vivian. You don't have to keep reminding me," he retorts, his tone filled with annoyance.

I feel my heart sink as George's voice grows louder, his frustration and impatience filling the air. I watch him closely, my eyes welling up with confusion and hurt.

His frustration seems to intensify as he continues to say, "There are other things going on right now. I have my grandmother's birthday coming up, and I need to focus on that first. You know how grandma’s condition is. Do I have to remind you that?"

His words make me even more puzzled. My mind races with questions, searching for answers. Why does his grandmother's birthday take precedence over our divorce?

I can't understand why he is avoiding the inevitable, especially when he has already started seeing someone else. It feels like he is keeping me in limbo, trapped in a state of uncertainty.

"But George," I protest, my voice trembling with a mixture of hurt and frustration, "our marriage is falling apart. Why can't we just finalize the divorce and move on with our lives?"

His eyes dim for a moment as if he is guilty. I don’t know. Why would he be guilty? Maybe I am too confused right now.

His expression hardens the next second.

"Trust me," he says, his tone tinged with impatience. "I'll sign the papers after my grandmother's birthday. Let's not talk about this right now."

A sense of unease settles within me. I can't shake the feeling that there is more to his reasons than he is letting on. The uncertainty gnaws at me, leaving me to wonder what George is truly hiding and why he is prolonging the inevitable.

As the car continues running, my mind grows more and more restless.

We finally arrive at the hospital.

My nerves escalate, anxiety coursing through my veins. I am on edge, fearing that the carefully guarded secret within me will be exposed to George. I can't let him know about the baby, especially when we are in the midst of ending our marriage. The mere thought of his reaction, the potential demands or judgments, sends shivers down my spine.

The doctor's eyes fixate on me, attentively listening as I recount the bouts of nausea and vomiting that have plagued me. I try to play it off, dismissing the symptoms as insignificant. But my facade crumbles in an instant as George interjects.

He brings up my delayed period, laying bare a piece of information I desperately wanted to keep hidden.

A wave of chills races down my spine, and I can't help but fear that he suspects the truth about my pregnancy. The room becomes heavy with unspoken tension, and I hold my breath, awaiting George's next words.

"You should undergo a test," he says.

"Yes, you should." The doctor also agrees with him.

Panic surges within me, leaving me feeling trapped and powerless against their insistence. Despite my fear and apprehension, I know I have no choice but to comply, to subject myself to the test I desperately wanted to avoid.

I nod, my face a canvas of mixed emotions—anxiety, resignation, and the weight of the unknown.

George continues to talk to the doctor as I leave for the test. My heart sinks as I contemplate how he will react. What am I going to do if he asks me to abort the child? Can he force me to do that?

If he doesn’t ask me for an abortion, he will surely take the baby from me.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I wasn’t aware when the nurse finished taking blood.

I come to the waiting area in a daze, but George is nowhere to be seen.

A small glimmer of hope sparks within me, suggesting that my secret remains intact, that he won't discover my pregnancy just yet. I push aside the question of why he left abruptly, choosing not to dwell on it for now. There are more pressing matters at hand.

Despite already knowing the likely outcome of the test, I patiently wait for the report. Every passing second feels like an eternity, with anticipation and unease coiling within me. Finally, the report is placed in my hands, its contents sealed within. I quickly tuck it away, intending to read it later when I have a moment to collect my thoughts.

Just as I'm about to head to my clinic, I receive his call. Without hesitation, I answer the call, eager to hear his voice and understand the reason behind his sudden departure from the hospital.

"Grandma’s BP shoots up. She is not happy with Megan. Can you come down to the mansion and check on her?" He asks seriously, his voice carrying a sense of urgency.

"Yes, I will be there shortly. But how…"

Before I can inquire about Grandmother's condition, he says, “Listen, Vivian. Things are not going well. I want you to put forward the divorce. I can’t tell Grandma that I want to marry Megan. She is already distressed and angry with Megan. But if you let her know that you want to end this marriage, things will be easy for us. I hope you can understand.”

I freeze in place, unable to process his words.

He sighs and continues, “I don’t want to delay any longer. It should be done before her birthday.”

The phone abruptly disconnects, leaving me startled and anxious.

Chapter 7 Wishful thought

I hug my belly tightly, feeling the weight of the world crashing down on me. Tears stream down my face, a mix of sadness, frustration, and disbelief.

A few hours ago, he was delaying signing the divorce agreement. But now he wants me to put the divorce before Grandma's birthday, just to please Megan! He even asked me to lie to Grandma and say that I wanted to end the marriage.

The realization hits me like a thunderbolt, shattering the fragile hope I hold onto.

My thoughts spin in disarray, my mind unable to grasp the magnitude of his cruelty.

How could he be so calloused?

Grandma always liked me, and the thought of her knowing about our impending divorce fills me with immense sorrow. I know she would be devastated.

But I can't continue this charade any longer. I can't bear the pain and uncertainty that comes with loving a man who doesn’t even have a smidgeon of feelings for me. It's time to take control of my own happiness and protect myself from further hurt.

Summoning every ounce of strength I have left, I wipe away my tears and hail a taxi to the mansion.

As the taxi speeds through the city streets, my heart races with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. The journey feels both long and short, with the seconds ticking away as my resolve strengthens.

Several minutes later, I arrive at my destination. The mansion looms ahead. With each step I take toward the front door, I brace myself for the challenges that lie ahead. I take a deep breath, steadying my trembling hands, and push open the grand entrance.

My eyes scan the familiar surroundings as I walk into Grandma’s room. But my heart skips a beat when I notice Megan standing there, by George's side.

Confusion and curiosity cloud my mind. Why is she here instead of going home?

I push the questions away for now, knowing that Grandma's well-being is my priority.

Approaching Grandma's bedside, I offer her a warm smile, masking the turmoil within me.

"You look good, Grandma… always beautiful." I try to make the atmosphere light. "How are you feeling now?"

I hold her hand.

However, she surprises me as she pushes my hand away.

"I don’t need all this. Tell me first, how are you?"

My gaze involuntarily shifts towards George, his penetrating stare making me uneasy. I suppress my pain and answer Grandma with a reassuring smile, "I am fine. What will happen to me? I am absolutely okay. Now let me check on you."

Grandma sighs deeply. She doesn’t push me away this time. Her expression turns cold as she turns her attention to Megan.

There is tension in the room, and I can sense Megan's discomfort. Grandma sternly reminds Megan that George is already married, emphasizing that I am his legal wife.

"You should keep your distance from him," she asserts. "Don’t keep clinging to him even in the presence of his wife."

Megan's face pales, her composure faltering. The truth hits her, and it's evident that Grandma's words have disturbed her deeply.

Trying to ease the situation, I speak up, my voice calm but determined.

"I have no issues with George and Megan's friendship, Grandma. There is no need to worry."

I attempt to reassure her that everything is well between me and George. Inside, my heart aches, but I maintain my facade, determined to show strength and maturity.

The air in the room feels heavy, charged with unspoken emotions and unfulfilled desires. I continue to attend to Grandma, focusing on her well-being while keeping a watchful eye on the dynamics unfolding before me.

I feel Grandma's annoyance wash over me as she shows her disinterest in talking to me, pouting and turning aside. I understand her dissatisfaction, and I desperately want to mend the situation and bring a smile back to her face.

With determination, I move over to George, taking his hand in mine and mustering a coquettish smile.

"Megan, can I borrow my husband for a while?" I ask, seeking a moment of connection with George.

Megan's irritation is evident, but in front of Grandma, she reluctantly nods in response.

"Thank you, Megan."

I walk out of the room to the hall and steal a glance back at Grandma, whose enthusiastic smile reassures me that I'm on the right path, trying to please her.

However, George scowls at me as we settle on the sofa in the hall. Confusion and hurt flicker in my eyes as he questions my behavior.

"What is it? I did expect such a childish and possessive act from you."

His words sting and I feel a pang of insecurity.

"Megan is his friend and a guest," he reminds me. "You shouldn't feel insecure if I engage in conversation with her."

I try to gather my thoughts, keeping my voice steady as I respond. "I... I didn't mean to appear possessive or insecure," I utter, searching for the right words. "It's just that... Grandma seemed disappointed, and I wanted to make her happy. I thought spending some time together would help bridge the gap."

I pause, taking a breath. "I didn't mean to overstep any boundaries or make you uncomfortable. I apologize if I did."

Inside, I wrestle with my conflicting emotions. I wanted to please Grandma and ensure her happiness, but I didn't want to strain my relationship with George in the process.

"Grandma is weak now and cannot take any tension. Another heart attack can be dangerous for her. We have to be careful around her."

As I meet George's gaze, searching for any sign of understanding, I silently hope that he sees the sincerity in my eyes. I long for a deeper connection, a bond that can weather the storm, and a shared understanding of the complexities that surround us.

But I can only see coldness. I sigh and turn my head away, trying to put on a brave face despite the ache in my heart.

"I know it is difficult for you. But can you act more intimately with me to make Grandma happy?"

I turn to face him, who nods slowly.

George's agreement brings a fleeting sense of relief, but I can't shake the underlying tension in his demeanor. It's as if every touch and every smile are forced, devoid of the warmth we once shared.

I can feel his uneasiness and even a trace of loathing directed toward me. It cuts deep, and tears threaten to spill from my eyes.

I fight to keep my emotions in check, to maintain a facade of strength. I blink away the tears, mustering a feeble smile that barely masks the pain within.

After the meal, George left with Megan. I stay with Grandma because I want to spend a little more time with her.

She holds my hands and smiles reassuringly. "Everything will be fine, darling. Don’t be concerned. George will understand your value and love you back as long as you get pregnant."

The mention of pregnancy catches me off guard, and my hand instinctively rests on my flat belly. There is a pang of uncertainty and fear.

Will having a baby truly be enough to mend the broken pieces of our relationship?

I look at Grandma, her eyes full of wisdom and understanding.

"If you give birth to a baby, George will dumb that bitch."

She believes in the power of new life, the transformative force it can wield. It's a comforting thought, but I know it's just wishful thinking.

Chapter 8 You are a liar.

Later that day…

I sit on the edge of the bed, exhaustion weighing heavily on me. The events of the day replay in my mind—the hurtful words and the undeniable distance between George and me.

It's clear that our marriage has reached a point of no return.

George's lack of feelings for me has become painfully evident; his request for a divorce is a stark reminder of his indifference. I can no longer bear to stay in this place, where I am unwanted and unloved.

Tomorrow, I will leave this house, this life that holds nothing but sorrow and unrequited love. With a heavy heart, I begin packing my remaining belongings into another suitcase.

As I finish packing, weariness washes over me, pulling me toward sleep.

Just as I close my eyes, my phone rings, jolting me back to reality. I check the phone and notice the name, Jason.

It's George's friend.

I wonder why he is calling me. I push away my questions and answer the phone.

"Hello…"

"George is drunk. He is unconscious in a bar. Please come quickly and pick him up." His voice is filled with concern and urgency.

A mix of emotions surges within me. Anger, frustration, and a lingering sense of duty clash in my mind.

George left with Megan, completely ignoring my presence. Then he got drunk, I don’t know why.

Why is his friend calling me? Why is he not informing Megan instead?

I am furious.

A bitter smirk tugs at the corners of my lips, realizing that George must have left Megan behind and found himself in a drunken mess. The irony of the situation is almost laughable.

"Why are you calling me instead of Megan? Shouldn't you be asking her to come and pick up George?"

"Ah, the apathetic wife who's ready to leave her husband for another woman," Jason said sarcastically. "Quite a sight, isn't it?"

My blood boils at the audacity of such an assumption.

"You have no right to pass judgment without knowing the truth," I snarl coldly. "Don't assume you understand the complexities of our situation."

My initial instinct is to end the call and detach myself from the chaos that seems to follow George wherever he goes. But before I can disconnect, Jason exclaims, "Look, I don't have much time. I have something important to take care of, and I can't stay with George for long. Just come quickly, will you?"

Frustration mixes with a sense of duty, pulling at my heartstrings. Despite the pain he has caused me, I can't simply abandon him in his intoxicated state. I can't ignore the fact that he is in trouble and that he needs someone to look out for him.

As much as I despise the situation, there is a lingering sense of responsibility that I cannot shake off. I sigh deeply, knowing that this is yet another task that falls upon me as the responsible one.

I grab my purse and dash out of the house. I stop a cab and ask the driver to take me to the Moonlight Bar.

It is the same bar where I used to go and vent my frustration whenever I was upset. I stopped going there ever since George came into my life.

I sigh and wonder why he has gone there. My mind is full of questions as I look at the rapidly moving scenery.

Several minutes later…

I step out of the taxi, my heart heavy with the weight of the situation.

The bar stands before me, its flickering neon sign casting an eerie glow on the dimly lit street. Memories flood my mind as I take a deep breath and push open the heavy door, the familiar scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke enveloping me.

Inside, the bar is bustling with activity. The air is thick with laughter, chatter, and the clinking of glasses.

I navigate through the crowd, scanning the dimly lit room in search of George. My eyes lock on a figure leaning back on the sofa with his eyes closed, disheveled and lost in a sea of empty glasses.

My steps falter as I approach him.

"You are finally here." Jason comes over to me. "I got to go now. Please take care of him."

He simply walks out.

I watch his figure disappear from my sight and then look back at George.

George, once so composed and confident, now appears vulnerable and broken. His tie hangs loosely around his neck, and his hair is disarrayed, evidence of a night gone awry. There are vomit stains on his shirt.

I have never seen him like this before.

Taking a deep breath, I gather my courage and make my way towards him. The clinking glasses and boisterous laughter fade into the background as I reach his side.

I hesitate for a moment, observing him from a distance, trying to reconcile the image before me with the man I once knew.

"George…" I tap on his shoulder.

He raises his head slightly, his bleary eyes meeting mine.

"It's time to go home," I say softly, my voice laced with a hint of concern.

He blinks slowly, struggling to focus. His lips form a faint smile, tinged with remorse. I can see the weight of his actions etched on his face, and a pang of sympathy stirs within me.

As I help him to his feet, his arm slung over my shoulder, I can't help but feel a sense of déjà vu.

This bar, once a sanctuary for my frustrations, now holds a different significance. It's a reminder of the complexities of our relationship and the challenges we face.

Leaving the bar behind, we step out into the night, the cool breeze washing over us. The taxi awaits, ready to carry us home.

With the help of the driver, I put him into the car. As soon as I step in, the car starts running down the street.

I guide George into the house, the weight of his body pressing against me. His stumbling steps threaten to throw us off balance, but I persevere, determined to clean him up and make him comfortable.

Every movement feels like a struggle as I navigate the narrow hallway, the scent of alcohol clinging to the air.

Finally, we reach the bathroom, its tiled floor cool beneath my feet. I support George as best I can, urging him to stand upright while I gather the necessary supplies.

His unsteady gaze meets mine, clouded with the remnants of intoxication. I see a spark of defiance flicker in his eyes, and my heart sinks.

As I attempt to guide him onto the toilet seat, I almost lost my balance.

"Ah…" I hug him instinctively.

My heart is thumping. Before I could calm down, he grabs my arms and pins me against the wall.

"George," I say softly, my voice tinged with concern. "What are you doing?"

His gaze pierces mine. He tightens his grip and snarls, "You… you are a liar."

I am stunned and gape at him, trying to process his words.