Chapter 3

A senior lady passing by shot him a glance, then leaned in close to her friend and whispered, "Another one getting divorced. Look at that guy. He looks decent enough, but what good is that if he still couldn't keep his wife?"

Jeffery caught every word.

Back then, he wouldn't have cared at all about what some random passerby said. His world was all about work, gain, and connections. The gossip like that was beneath him.

But now, everything he once thought mattered suddenly felt so far away, like it was separated from him by a sheet of frosted glass. The only thing close was Chelsea's determined back as she walked away.

She was gone.

Chelsea had really gone.

Jeffery couldn't even describe what he was feeling. It wasn't pain, and it wasn't emptiness. It was something unfamiliar, something he'd never experienced before.

It was as if a switch inside his heart had been flicked off, and the whole world fell silent. So silent, he could hear his own breathing, and somewhere deep inside, the faint sound of something quietly collapsing.

Suddenly, he remembered this exact day three years ago.

It was at City Hall, and she was there waiting for him.

He was forty minutes late that day. When he finally rushed in, she was sitting quietly on the same plastic chair, not a word of complaint. As soon as she saw him, she stood up, her eyes shining like stars, a faint dimple on her cheek as she smiled and said, "You're here."

And Jeffery? He just gave her a half-hearted nod, not even sparing her a proper glance.

He remembered now. She was wearing a white dress that day, with her long hair falling over her shoulders and a tiny pearl hairpin tucked in it. It made her skin look even fairer, her eyes gentle and soft.

When she smiled, there were faint dimples at the corners of her mouth that were barely noticeable unless one looked closely.

But Jeffery'd never taken the time to notice her, not once.

The cold wind swept past, carrying fallen leaves with it. Jeffery pulled the divorce certificate from his pocket, his fingers trembling slightly.

He flipped them open. Chelsea's expression was calm in the photo, so distant that she almost looked like a stranger to him.

Suddenly, he realized he'd never truly seen her for who she was.

And now, he'd never get the chance again.

Three years ago, the day Chelsea married into the Newsom family was both the most glamorous and the most wretched day of her life.

By the time the wedding reception ended, it was almost ten at night. The once lively party hall was now a mess of empty glasses, plates, and wilted rose petals scattered everywhere.

Chelsea had been standing in four-inch heels for eight hours straight, her heels raw and bleeding. Every step she took felt like walking on knives, and she could barely put weight on her feet.

Jeffery was still at the hotel entrance, seeing off the last of the guests. He stood there in his perfectly tailored suit, back straight, a polite smile on his face, so composed, he might as well have been a puppet with no feelings at all.

Chelsea gritted her teeth and made her way over, clinging to a tiny, desperate hope. Even a single sentence from him, "You've had a hard day," would have been enough.

But Jeffery just glanced at her, his voice as cold as ever. "The driver's waiting for you at the door."

Not "Let's go home." Just "The driver's waiting for you at the door."

Chelsea froze, the words "Aren't you coming with me?" caught in her throat, making it hard to breathe. She nodded, stayed silent, and gathered up the heavy wedding dress, stepping onto the icy gravel as she slowly walked to the parking lot.

The driver opened the back door, and she bent down to get in. The car was so quiet she could hear her own heartbeat, each thump making her chest ache.

On her wedding night, the groom was nowhere to be found.

Was it how things were supposed to be?

Chelsea honestly didn't know.

The Newsom family's villa was so big that one could easily get lost in it. Chelsea wandered the upstairs hallway for five whole minutes before she finally found the master bedroom.

The king-size bed lay neatly made. She lay alone on the spacious king-size bed. The other side of the bed was untouched and empty.

Chelsea waited all night.

From the deep darkness of night to the first light of dawn, the right side of the bed never warmed up.

Jeffery finally came home the next morning.

He was still wearing yesterday's suit, his tie hanging loose, shirt collar open. He smelled strongly of alcohol, and there was a trace of some other woman's perfume on him.

When he saw Chelsea sitting at the table having breakfast, he paused, like he'd forgotten he'd gotten married.

"Something came up at work yesterday," he said offhandedly, barely bothering to explain.

Chelsea swallowed her porridge, her voice flat and lifeless, like stagnant water. "Never mind. Go take care of your work."

Not "It's okay," not "I understand," but "Never mind."