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The moment I learned about Rose Sutton, I knew I couldn't look the other way. I asked David Jennings for a divorce that very day. He locked himself in his study and smoked for hours. When he finally emerged, his voice was raw, almost pleading. "Rose doesn't believe in marriage. She's not a threat to us." The sheer audacity of it made my blood boil. I struck him across the face without a second thought. He pressed his tongue against his stinging cheek, a flicker of irritation darkening his gaze. "It was meaningless. Just a bit of fun. Nothing more. Do you really have to make such a scene over it?" Then he turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. That evening, I accidentally got through to myself ten years into the future. On the other end of the video call, she looked utterly drained. Her face was gaunt, her eyes sunken deep into their sockets. "Claire," she said, "I already went down that road for you, filing for divorce the second I found out he'd strayed. And trust me, it's not a path you want to take. "There's a saying. The stiff branch breaks first. Love isn't the whole of life. Don't fall for a man. Learn to make use of one. "You can still get divorced, but not now. Not yet."