MasukAfter four years of a loveless marriage, Eleanor is blindsided by her husband Arthur's abrupt decision to divorce her. The convenient arrangement that had suited them both had, seemingly, run its course. As Eleanor struggles to come to terms with the end of their marriage, she can't help but feel discarded - a pawn replaced by Arthur's rekindled flame, a woman from his past. But just as Eleanor is starting to rebuild her life, Arthur drops a bombshell: he wants her back. His reasons are unclear, but one thing is certain - His regret.
Lihat lebih banyak—ARTHUR.-I swallow the jealousy burning in my throat as I help Eleanor out of the bath, her skin warm and damp beneath my steady hands. The steam clings to her like a second skin as I wrap a thick robe around her body, securing it snugly against the chill of the room.She’s awake now, but her eyes are glassy, her gaze unfocused, as if she’s moving through a dream. It’s not clear if she knows where she is or who’s beside her — maybe in her mind, it’s not me at all.In the bedroom, she collapses onto the bed, restless, tossing from side to side. Words spill from her lips in half-formed sentences, nonsensical and random… until they’re not.Her hangover will be merciless come morning, and she’ll probably remember none of this, none of the stumbling, none of the bath… none of the moment her voice softened in that drowsy haze and she mumbled a name I’ve grown to despise.Leon.The sound of it still clings to the walls in my head.I hate that bastard. I hate that he’s always one step ahead
—ARTHUR.-I’ve never seen Eleanor this drunk. Not once in all the years we’ve spent together as husband and wife. Not at weddings. Not at rowdy office parties where everyone else is swaying and spilling their drinks. Not even during those rare nights when we were alone and she might have let herself loosen up a little.She’s always so composed, so deliberate about her public image, the type of woman who holds a champagne flute for hours without ever actually emptying it. People probably think she’s allergic to alcohol, the way she avoids even the smallest sip. I’ve never questioned it—it was simply who she was.And now? Now she’s leaning heavily against me, her skin warm and flushed, her eyes glazed and struggling to focus. Her hair is damp from splashes of water she probably didn’t notice. The faint smell of wine clings to her breath. Something’s broken her tonight. Something strong enough to pull her past her own rules. My mind immediately goes to Brianna, to that simmering situati
—ELEANOR-I arrive back at Cassandra’s home with Arthur.He doesn’t let me get out of the car before he starts offering.“You can sleep over if you want I’ll leave, or I can drive you back to Cindy’s. You can make your decision now that my grandma’s not here”I sigh.“Thanks but I feel bad. I don’t think I’ll leave until she gets back. I ruined this dress and if I just leave like that. She’ll hate me”“Again. She’ll never hate you” He says.“Yeah right,” I scoff as I get out of the car.I almost stumble and fall flat on my face but thankfully I don’t. So I take off my shoes and push my heavy body towards the grey house.As I get inside the house I thank the heavens I haven’t left yet because why.. Cassandra has gotten her staff to prepare a bath for me and sleepwear.And if I had left all that and she found out Arthur and I are over. She’ll hunt me down.You can’t reject anything from Cassandra.“Thank you,” I say to one of the maids who watches me with a weird look.“What?” I narrow
—ELEANOR.-I feel bad. So bad. My chest is tight, my face is hot, and my breath comes out in short angry bursts as I scramble to sit up. I ignore Arthur’s stifled laugh and focus on getting my feet steady on the floor of the car. My hands clutch at the ruined silk of my dress, shaking slightly as I realize the damage.This isn’t just a tear. It’s a massacre. The delicate fabric is shredded up to my thighs, threads hanging loose like a cruel reminder of my humiliation.I’ve ruined a million-dollar dress.My fingers tremble as I gather what’s left of it around me. I don’t even have the energy to glare at Arthur anymore.Then Alex climbs into the car. His sudden presence startles me, and before I can say anything, his hands are on my dress— ripping.“What the hell are you doing?!” I scream, clutching the tattered fabric tighter around my body.“I’m helping,” he says flatly, as if he isn’t currently committing a crime against couture.“Are you crazy?” My voice rises an octave. I gape at












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