Divorce: My Anniversary Surprise To The Heartless Man

Rachel's POV:

"Happy third anniversary! Come home early-I've planned a surprise I'm sure you'll love."

After sending the text, I waited patiently, but there was no reply.

I set my phone aside and returned to the kitchen. I lowered the heat on the stove and continued chopping vegetables, humming to myself as I worked.

Despite the lack of response, my mood remained upbeat.

The housekeeper observed and offered, "Mrs. Murray, let me assist you."

"No, it's alright. You keep doing what you're doing. I want to make dinner for him myself tonight."

The housekeeper commented, "Mrs. Murray, you and Mr. Murray really seem to be deeply in love."

I forced a smile and said nothing.

In love, Dean Murray and I?

It felt more like a façade. I knew deep down he didn't love me.

At 7 PM, Dean arrived home, and the housekeeper discreetly left.

As I finished setting the table, I felt his warm breath on my neck. Before I could react, his rough lips pressed against mine.

I was momentarily taken aback before I pushed him away.

Dean wrapped his arms around my waist, gripping my chin with his long fingers. His dark eyes narrowed as he spoke coldly, "You brought me home for this, didn't you?"

I responded softly, "No, today is our third wedding anniversary. I really do have a gift for you."

Dean released me, straightened his slightly wrinkled shirt, and said with mild indifference, "There's no need for a gift. Your surprises usually surprise me, but they don't particularly please me."

I managed a faint smile but chose not to argue. I turned and went back to the kitchen.

Soon, the final dish was ready.

I sat across from Dean, poured wine into his glass, and then filled my own.

Lifting my glass, I said, "To our third wedding anniversary-cheers."

In the soft light, Dean's features were striking, with a sharply defined jawline and a straight nose. His lips were slightly pursed, showing a hint of dissatisfaction.

I gave a faint smile, not expecting much from him, and took a long sip from my glass.

After finishing the wine, I poured another glass for myself.

One glass followed another.

Eventually, feeling a bit tipsy, I rested my head on the table, watching the man across from me, whose expression remained unchanged. My voice dragged a little as I asked, "Dean, can't you give me a smile, just for today?"

"What do you want from me? To indulge in your madness or to celebrate this utterly dull anniversary?"

"How can it be dull? How many anniversaries do we get in a lifetime? Maybe after this one, there won't be another."

He gave a smirk, as if he had just heard something amusing, his lips curling up with a trace of irony. "Do you really think you can make it go away?"

I swirled the last bit of liquid in my glass, my eyes catching the dim light from the lamp and becoming a bit misty. "I guess... it's probably not going to happen."

Dean didn't say anything else. He stood up and made his way upstairs.

I watched him in silence, noticing his irritation as he loosened his tie and shrugged off his suit jacket. Just as he was about to unbutton his shirt, I wrapped my arms around his waist, the lingering scent of alcohol still hanging between us.

I whispered softly, "Don't hurry. I haven't given you your present yet ... "

Dean turned to face me, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his gaze cold and unreadable.

Feeling the effects of the alcohol, I found a bit of courage, my cheeks flushing as I looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, biting my lower lip.

His expression seemed to darken and become more inscrutable.

As my awkward fingers struggled to unbutton his shirt, he instinctively lifted my chin and forced my lips open with a rough kiss.

I winced in pain, letting out a soft, pained noise.

By the time we reached the bed, my vision was already blurry, my arms draped around his neck.

He positioned himself above me, his hands placed firmly on either side of my body. His eyes had a mocking glint, as if he was silently taunting—Didn't you say you didn't want this?

4G

"Shouldn't you know by now that when a woman says she doesn't want something, it usually means she does?" I looked up at him with a teasing smile.

Dean's lips curled into a cold sneer, and he leaned in to kiss me again.

My teeth grazed his lip, and I tasted the metallic tang of blood in my mouth.

The kiss felt like a struggle for dominance, a battle to control each other.

Just as he reached for something on the nightstand, I interrupted, saying, "Dean, let's get a divorce."