I forced a hollow smile, though bitterness prickled at the edges.
"Christopher, why did you marry me if you can't let Roxanne go?" I sighed before adding, "Let's just get a divorce."
His brows drew together sharply, his expression darkening with disapproval.
"Stop being ridiculous," he said, irritation lacing his tone. "Just give me some time. I'll take care of this."
I didn't respond.
Silence stretched between us. I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. If Christopher were capable of handling it, he wouldn't still be caught between me and Roxanne.
Fortunately, Roxanne's sudden arrival broke our standoff. She breezed into the room with a smile, casually looping her arm through Christopher's.
"What are you doing in here?" she teased. "Come help me in the kitchen—we have a guest to entertain."
Her tone dripped with false sweetness, but the way she emphasized "guest" wasn't lost on me. She shot me a pointed look, warning me to know my place.
At last, Christopher turned to Roxanne but remained still. He freed his arm from her grasp, his voice suddenly icy. "We are not a couple."
His words felt like they were meant for me.
Roxanne's expression flickered, a mix of embarrassment and defiance flashing across her face. She quickly recovered and let out a dramatic huff before whining, "We will be soon!"
Without warning, she leaned in and kissed Christopher. I couldn't tell whether he was too slow to respond, but he didn't move away. He was in a daze until she dragged him out of the room.
Bitterness rose in my heart, but I wasn't surprised. This was Christopher—always swinging between extremes. One moment, he'd push me away, and the next, he'd defend me as if nothing had happened.
His contradictions were the reason I couldn't fully let go. But maybe, this time, I'd finally leave him behind for good.
After they left, I didn't feel much of anything. Exhaustion weighed me down, and I drifted into a deep sleep.
Christopher knocked a few times, calling me to join them for dinner, but I was too tired to care. I muttered something dismissive and stayed in bed.
When I finally woke, the sky outside was pitch-black, and the villa was dark. The only sound was Roxanne's tinkling laughter echoing from downstairs.
"Do I look good, Christopher? Ugh, you're so clumsy! Hold this. I'll take the photo," she said.
Christopher's voice, deep and husky, was startlingly clear in the stillness of the night. "Sure, anything you want."
The hunger pangs hit me, so I decided to head downstairs to grab something from the fridge. The front door was left wide open. I could see them clearly in the yard.
Christopher was holding a sparkler, the light softly illuminating his face as Roxanne fussed over, positioning him just right for a photo. His eyes were full of quiet indulgence.
I must have made a sound because Roxanne turned around, her eyes gleaming with smug satisfaction.
She called out, "Want to join us, Willow? Chris just took a ton of pictures of me, and they're lovely!"
Since we were a little apart, I raised my voice to answer, "No, thanks."
But she wasn't letting it go. She headed straight toward me, sparkler in hand.
A sense of unease curled in my stomach. And then, just as I feared, she stumbled, and the burning tip of the sparkler lurched toward my face. I quickly dodged, but it still singed my right ear.
Roxanne and I both cried out sharply.
Christopher rushed over and wrapped her in his arms, his voice heavy with concern. "Are you hurt?"
