On the day of my wedding, the man I had dated for ten years, Benny Gruce—my childhood sweetheart—eloped.
Not long after, he posted on social media, proudly announcing that he had proposed to Selena Baker—my father’s illegitimate daughter—and she had said yes.
Meanwhile, Justin Rogers, the heir of the esteemed Rogers Family and someone the world believed to be cold and detached, knelt before me in public, begging me to find a new groom.
Three years into our marriage, he treated me with unwavering gentleness and indulgence.
Until one day, I accidentally overheard a conversation between him and a friend.
“Selena has already given birth to an heir. Don’t you plan to divorce Thalia Quinn?”
“As long as she plays the role of a proper housewife, it doesn’t matter who she’s married to.”
In his study, hidden inside a locked box, were ninety-nine love letters—each one written with the sincerest affection, not for me, but for Selena.
[I want to be the most important person in your life—someone you can’t live without, someone you’d never want to leave.]
[While others exchange glances, all I ever want is a fleeting glimpse of you.]
[Every time I pick up a pen, I drift off… I’m sorry, Selena. I’ve been thinking of you all afternoon. I hope you’re happy.]
Three years. It all felt like a dream. A sweet illusion that had now turned into a cruel joke.
I had booked a fake death service.
From now on, we would go our separate ways and never meet again.
After confirming the final arrangements, I met up with a friend to go shopping.
While we were out, Justin called, gently reminding me not to let the housekeeper into the study.
My friend teased me with envy.
“Thalia, you’re so lucky. Even when you’re just shopping, someone’s still worried about you.”
I smiled faintly, watching the tea leaves swirl in my cup.
“We’ve already divorced.”
She froze, stunned.
“Divorced?! Why? Was all his kindness fake? Did he just agree to it so easily?”
I ran my fingers along the rim of the teacup, a helpless smile tugging at my lips.
“Maybe he did.”
She was confused. But inside, I was just as lost. Because even I wasn’t sure if he had truly agreed.
After I overheard that conversation, I drafted a divorce agreement.
The first time I entered his study without knocking, Justin looked startled. He was hurriedly typing on his phone. When he saw me, his face darkened.
His voice was cold and sharp.
“I told you to knock first. Don’t come into the study unless it’s important.”
Before I could respond, his phone rang. He glanced down, frowned and asked impatiently, “What do you want?”
“There’s a document you need to sign.” I set the divorce papers on his desk. He didn’t even glance at them before signing.
Then, waving his hand dismissively, he gestured for me to leave—his eyes never once leaving his phone.
I knew Selena would call him on video almost every other day. Crying, complaining about her marriage to Benny—treating Justin like her emotional dumping ground.
After signing, he never brought up the divorce again.
One more month. Then I’d be free.
That evening when I returned home, dinner was already set on the table: four dishes and a soup, still warm beneath the insulated cover.
Justin stepped out of the study, his usually emotionless face wearing a rare smile.
But the moment his eyes landed on me, that warmth vanished, replaced by his usual indifference.
“I learned a new dish today. Try it. See if you like it.”
He pulled out a chair for me, then headed to the kitchen to get a bowl and chopsticks.
Usually, he didn’t speak much during meals. But today, he broke the silence.
“That document you had me sign the other day—what was it?”
Almost a week had passed and only now did he ask.
It made sense. Lately, Selena had been calling more often, complaining about her fights with Benny and even leaving home to live alone.
And no matter how unreasonable her demands were, Justin would meet them without hesitation.
Just as I was about to answer, his phone rang again.
He glanced at me briefly, then stood and walked back into the study, shutting the door behind him.
I had just taken a sip of soup when he suddenly rushed out, still in his pajamas, heading straight for the door to put on his shoes.
“Selena’s divorced. I’m going out for a bit. Eat without me.”
