Chapter 2
I opened the door to my new apartment. Empty, as usual.
I'd already dismissed all the housekeepers half a year ago.
My whole body ached, my forehead throbbing with pain as I fumbled for the pill bottle in my bag, hands shaking uncontrollably.
I shook out a handful—didn't bother counting—and swallowed them dry.
Then I lay down on the cold floor and cried.
Charlotte, how did it come to this?
This marriage had drained everything out of me. I had nothing left.
Even my body was giving up.
The lock rattled. I instinctively tried to push myself up, but couldn't move.
I was the only one who ever came here.
With a bitter laugh, I watched the door swing open. Edward walked in, backlit by the hall light.
He stood there, expressionless and silent.
Eventually, I sat up and quietly hid the pill bottle in my bag.
Not that it mattered. Even if he noticed, he wouldn't care.
Edward walked right past me and dropped onto the couch like nothing was wrong.
"So, Ms. Evans—we're not even divorced yet and you've already erased me from this place?"
Months ago, I'd sent all his things to the villa he bought for Vivian.
Honestly, with everything I'd been dealing with, I couldn't even remember the last time he'd been here.
When I didn't respond, Edward got up and pulled me into his arms.
He leaned down, jaw clenched.
"Charlotte, say something."
That little mole at the corner of his eye—the one I used to love—caught my attention. I looked away quickly.
"Nothing's missing. Everything's at the house you share with her."
Edward's anger flared. He grabbed my shoulders tightly, eyes red.
"It's been three years, Charlotte. Three years. What will it take for you to forgive me?
"Can't you see how much I regret this? I'm hurting too—every single day, just like you."
He took my hand and pressed it against his chest, his voice softening.
"Charlotte, can't we just go back to how things were? Can't we just be a real couple again?"
I tried to push him away, but he wouldn't budge. I just looked at him quietly—the kind of look that said I'd finally given up.
Finally, Edward let out a bitter laugh, his grip loosening.
I rubbed my shoulder where he'd squeezed too hard, then picked up a fruit knife from the coffee table and turned it over in my hands.
"Edward, let's just get divorced. We'll both be free."
Edward sank to the floor and laughed—low and bitter.
"Divorce? Never. I'm keeping you right here so you can spend the rest of your life watching me be happy."
I clenched the fruit knife, pressing the tip lightly against my neck.
Too bad for him—he'd already lost his hold on me.
Edward's eyes went wide. Without hesitating, he grabbed the knife from my hand.
His fingers were trembling.
In the silence between us, he broke first.
"Fine. I'll divorce you."
Edward tried to stand but swayed like he might collapse.
Before he could fall, a small figure caught him.
Vivian kept her head down, lashes wet with tears.
"I wasn't following you. It's just—every time you come here, you leave hurt.
"I worry about you."
Edward leaned heavily against her, resting his head on her shoulder, eyes closed.
"I won't be coming back here anymore."
That day, I stood staring at the open door. Edward was gone.
Memories washed over me—receding, then crashing back—until my vision blurred.
People said love alone wasn't enough to make it work.
We never bought into that—not Edward, not me.
But now? We both know it was true.