Chapter 2
Pearl couldn't stand me and was always targeting me, no matter the occasion. At my birthday party last month, she pretended to be drunk and knocked over my wine glass, embarrassing me in front of all my guests.
I slapped her hard across the face.
It finally felt good to put her in her place.
But to my shock, the very next day, Michael brought her on board as the chief designer.
All of a sudden, everyone started gossiping and snickering nonstop.
That night, Michael and I got into a huge fight. I accused him of falling for Pearl, called him cold and disloyal, and tore into him for never having my back. I even cursed myself for being blind enough to fall for a guy like him.
He just stood there in silence, letting me lash out at him, never saying a word.
I was so furious that I kicked him out of the house.
After that, he didn't come home anymore. Every morning, he'd still come by the villa just to water the flowers.
On the eve of his business trip, he told me he'd be gone for two weeks, but I just turned my head away.
He let out a sigh and gave me a tender kiss.
"Honey, just wait for me to come back," he murmured.
I always thought Michael had gone soft on Pearl. Even though he knew she was obsessed with him, he still let her join the company. But I never realized he was actually under pressure from the Sinclairs. He was just trying to keep our company alive.
He was fighting to protect the business we'd built together over ten long years, pouring in our blood, sweat, and tears.
And this business trip? He was out there searching for a powerhouse ally, someone strong enough to break the Sinclairs' grip and finally set us free.
I was the one who misunderstood everything.
"You can go now," Michael said.
The secretary nodded and left. Michael took out his phone, his gaze lingering on our chat window for a long moment.
But he just couldn't bring himself to type a single word.
After what felt like forever, he finally tapped the screen. [Honey, is everything okay at home?]
He paused.
Listening to the rain tapping against the window, he let out a sigh and kept typing. [I messed up that day. When Pearl embarrassed you, I should've had your back, not let her join the company.]
[I didn't think about your feelings, and that's on me. I'm sorry. There was a reason I did it. Let me explain everything when I get back. I'll fire Pearl right in front of everyone, stand up for you, and make things right.]
[I miss you so much, honey. I'll be back in two more weeks. When I get home, will you give me a kiss?]
As I read his words, it was like someone jammed a bunch of knives into my chest.
It was all sour, bitter, and just plain hurt.
It hurt so much that I just wanted to die.
I watched Michael as he was texting, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips. It was full of regret, yearning, and anticipation.
He must be imagining all those little moments we'd share together once he was finally home.
Thinking about all this, I felt like my heart was being wrung out, the pain almost unbearable.
If I'd known that was the last time I'd ever see him, I never would've let myself argue with him.
I reached out, resting my hand on his shoulder, aching to melt into his arms like I used to.
He'd always pull me close and hold me tight when we were together.
His hugs were always so warm and secure.
I used to tease him, "You're a CEO, but you act like a clingy kid."
He'd just smile, totally proud of it, and say, "Yep, I can't live without you. It's not a crime to be glued to my wife, right?"
But now, when I tried to throw myself into his arms, my hands just closed around empty air.
I watched as he agonized over every word in the message, reading it again and again before finally sending it off.
He waited anxiously for my reply.
But no matter how long he waited, my reply never came.
His brows furrowed.
He thought about calling me, but after a second, he set his phone down and muttered to himself, "Forget it. She's probably pissed at me. I'd better wrap things up and hurry home to her."
After that, he summoned his secretary again.
The two of them dove right back into their nonstop lovemaking.
As it got late, the secretary called it a night and went home, but Michael kept at it.
Whenever he felt tired, he'd chug some black coffee; when he got hungry, he'd just munch on some bread and keep grinding, refusing to rest for even a moment.
I watched him, powerless to do anything but linger by his side.
The pain was like icy wind, slicing through my bones and mercilessly shredding my soul.
Michael's heart was overflowing with longing, yearning for the day we could be together again.
He pictured us by the blooming roses, sharing coffee and reading in the quiet sunlight.
But he didn't know that I was already dead.
I'd never see him again. I'd never be there with him to enjoy the roses.
Just thinking about it, I felt as if my heart had been torn out, leaving only a hollow shell in my chest.
It was as if blood was streaming from the wound.
The blood flowed endlessly, vivid and raw.
The agony was unbearable, making me wish for oblivion.