003

Calista’s POV

The next few days had been unbearable.

I got to see Ophelia often at our house, and even on the days she didn’t drop by, I knew Gerald had gone out to see her.

I refused to think about where I had gone wrong these past three years. I refused to wonder whether things would’ve been different if I’d known about Ophelia from the beginning. Maybe I would’ve protected my heart. Maybe I would’ve reminded myself that this marriage had an expiration date.

Maybe I would’ve never fallen in love with him.

But there was no point thinking about any of that now.

I had spent three years trying to turn a contract into a marriage, and apparently, I’d been the only one trying.

So I promised myself I would go on with my life as though nothing had happened.

At least, I would try.

I arranged breakfast on a tray, watching steam rise from the hot cup of coffee before letting out a slow breath.

“If only things were different…” I found myself muttering.

My fingers tightened around the edge of the tray.

“If only…”

I stopped myself.

There was no point.

Leaving the food on the counter, I climbed the stairs reluctantly, the only thing pushing me forward being the urge to get it over with. When I reached Gerald’s room, I knocked three times.

“Gerald, your breakfast’s ready.”

I didn’t really care whether he ate it or not.

At least, I didn’t want to care.

After the way Ophelia had been all over him these past few days, I wouldn’t even be surprised if he rejected my food again so he could eat with her instead.

Or maybe they had already eaten together.

Maybe they had been doing that all along.

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat.

I was about to leave after delivering my message when I heard the lock click.

My eyes shifted to the door instantly.

For one stupid second, hope sparked inside me.

Maybe Gerald would eat today.

Maybe he’d ask me to stay.

Maybe—

The door opened.

And whatever fragile hope had appeared inside me shattered instantly.

Ophelia stood there.

She was clutching the bed sheets to her chest, her hair slightly disheveled, her expression completely unbothered by the fact that she was standing half-naked in my husband’s bedroom.

My heart thundered so loudly in my ears that for a moment, I couldn’t hear anything else.

I just stared.

When on earth did she get in?

I’d gone to bed early last night. Had she come after I’d fallen asleep?

Had she spent the night here?

The thought made something inside my chest twist painfully.

“Oh yes.” She stretched lazily, tipping her head back with a small breath. “Breakfast. I’m starving.”

Her eyes moved to the tray in my hands.

“Hope you made enough for two?”

She batted her lashes at me.

I blinked.

I couldn’t make my mouth work.

My eyes flicked toward the slightly open bedroom door.

A second later, Gerald emerged behind her wearing dress pants and a dress shirt. His hair was slightly tousled, and he was adjusting his collar as though nothing about this situation was unusual.

He saw me.

For a moment, our eyes met.

Something passed through his expression, but it disappeared so quickly that I couldn’t tell what it was.

Then he looked away.

He walked past me.

Just like that.

As though I wasn’t standing there with a breakfast tray in my hands.

As though I wasn’t his wife.

As though the woman beside him wasn’t standing in front of me with his bed sheets wrapped around her body.

Of course.

I parted my lips to ask whether he would eat what I’d prepared for him, but I forced my mouth shut.

If he wanted it, he’d find it in the kitchen.

If he didn’t, his beloved could make him another one.

Right?

My fingers trembled around the tray.

I hated that they did.

I hated even more that I couldn’t stop them.

I lowered my gaze before either of them could see what was happening to my face.

“Enjoy your breakfast.”

My voice sounded strangely calm.

I turned around before I could hear whatever answer they had for me.

I walked away.

One step.

Then another.

I didn’t run.

I didn’t cry.

I didn’t give either of them the satisfaction of seeing me break.

But the moment I entered my bedroom and shut the door behind me, I leaned against it and closed my eyes.

My lungs felt too tight.

My chest hurt.

I pressed my palm against it as though that would somehow make the pain disappear.

“This is just a contract marriage,” I whispered.

My voice cracked.

I swallowed.

“He told you that himself.”

I walked toward the bed and sat down.

It was just a contract.

Three years.

That was all.

Gerald had never promised me forever.

He had never told me he loved me.

He had never asked me to stay.

I was the idiot who had filled all the silence between us with things that had never been said.

I had taken his quiet care and turned it into affection.

His consideration and turned it into love.

His habit of remembering the little things and convinced myself that perhaps I had become important to him.

Maybe I had simply wanted it to be true so badly that I stopped seeing reality.

I wiped beneath my eyes before the tears could fall.

I wasn’t going to cry over this.

Not yet.

I had to keep reminding myself that there was still dignity left for me to protect.

I was scrolling through Ophelia's page later that afternoon, checking whether she'd posted any new pictures of herself and Gerald.

Yes.

This was what my life had become.

No matter how many times I told myself to stop, I kept finding myself doing the same thing.

Checking.

Searching.

Comparing.

Hurting myself and then pretending I didn't know exactly what I was doing.

A new picture appeared.

Gerald and Ophelia at some restaurant.

Another one.

The two of them walking together.

Another.

Gerald looking down at her while she laughed.

I stared at the screen for a long time.

There was something almost cruel about how natural they looked together.

Like they had simply picked up where they'd left off.

Like I had never existed.

My thumb hovered over the screen.

Then I locked my phone.

Enough.

I tossed it onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.

I had to stop doing this to myself.

I had to.

I was wondering why Gerald wasn't back yet, when I heard his car horn from outside.

My entire body went rigid.

I didn't bother leaving my bed.

It wasn't like he wanted me to welcome him.

Besides, he was probably with his first love.

Why should I give him another opportunity to make me feel insignificant?

I glanced toward the window.

Headlights swept across the curtains before disappearing.

A few seconds later, I heard the front door open.

I stayed where I was.

I didn't know what Gerald had said to Ophelia about me, but I could already imagine her asking whether I'd prepared dinner.

She had become so comfortable in my home that sometimes I wondered if she believed it belonged to her.

Hot anger flared through me.

I turned away from the window and stared at the blurry ceiling.

Then I shut my eyes, trapping the tears threatening to fall.

You can't cry because of him, Calista.

You can't.

You've cried enough.

Just then, a loud sound jolted me out of my thoughts.

My eyes snapped toward the door.

Gerald stood there.

His palm was splayed against the door as though he'd pushed it open harder than he'd intended.

He looked at me.

I looked back.

For a strange second, neither of us spoke.

His expression was unreadable.

Mine probably was too.

He stepped inside.

My heartbeat picked up.

"Gerald?"

He didn't answer.

He closed the distance between us in three slow strides.

There was something about the way he moved that made uneasiness settle in my stomach.

Then he threw a stack of papers toward me.

I flinched.

They landed on my lap.

My fingers froze.

I already knew.

Some part of me had known the moment he'd walked through that door.

Still, I looked down.

The words blurred before my eyes.

Divorce.

My heart stopped.

For several seconds, I couldn't breathe.

I'd spent the past few days preparing myself for the end of our contract.

I'd told myself this was coming.

I'd told myself it would be easier if I expected it.

But expecting something didn't make it hurt less.

Not when the person sitting in front of you was the man you'd secretly hoped would ask you to stay.

"Sign it."

Gerald's voice was cold.

Final.

My eyes remained on the papers.

"Why?"

The question slipped out before I could stop it.

His jaw tightened.

"Our contract is ending."

I let out a small, humorless laugh.

"There's still time."

"A few days."

His voice remained steady.

I looked up at him.

"And that's why you couldn't wait?"

Something shifted in his eyes.

For a fleeting moment, I thought I saw hesitation.

Then it was gone.

"There are things I need to settle."

I stared at him.

Things.

That was what I was.

A thing to settle.

I lowered my gaze again.

My fingers brushed against the edge of the papers.

I'd been trying to prepare my mind for the future ahead of me.

I'd been trying to brace myself.

But I would have never expected him to do this to me.

Not like this.

Not after three years.

Not because another woman had walked back into his life.

But maybe that was the truth I had been refusing to see.

He had loved her before me.

And now she was back.

Whatever small place I'd managed to create in his life had never been enough to compete with the history they shared.

I swallowed painfully.

"So that's it?"

Gerald said nothing.

I looked at him one last time.

There was no anger on his face.

No cruelty.

Just that same controlled expression he'd worn throughout our entire marriage.

And somehow, that hurt more.

Because it meant this wasn't a mistake.

He had thought about it.

He had made his decision.

He wanted this.

I felt something inside me crack.

But I refused to let it show.

If he had chosen to let me go, I wasn't going to humiliate myself by begging him to keep me.

Not when another woman was waiting for him.

Not when he had already decided I wasn't enough.

I picked up the pen.

My hand trembled.

I hated that he could probably see it.

I hated that I wanted him to stop me.

Just once.

I wanted him to take the pen away.

I wanted him to say, *Forget it.*

I wanted him to look at me and tell me that he didn't want the divorce.

But he didn't.

He simply watched.

So I signed.

The moment the ink touched the paper, something inside me went strangely quiet.

I signed the final page.

Then I placed the pen down.

I refused to look at Ophelia lingering near the doorway.

I refused to look at Gerald's signature beside mine.

I didn't want to know how long he'd been waiting to sign it.

I didn't want to know whether he'd felt relieved when he wrote his name.

I didn't want to know anything.

I gathered the papers and held them out to him.

Gerald took them.

Our fingers brushed.

I pulled my hand away immediately.

Neither of us spoke.

I stood.

My legs felt weak, but I forced myself to remain steady.

I walked to the closet.

I began packing.

I didn't know where I would go.

I didn't know what I would do.

I only knew I couldn't stay here.

Not another night.

Not another hour.

Not while the woman he had chosen was standing at my door.

I packed quietly.

One bag.

Then another.

I didn't take everything.

I couldn't bring myself to care about most of it anymore.

The expensive things he'd bought for me suddenly felt meaningless.

The clothes.

The jewelry.

The gifts.

Everything that had once made me feel like a wife now looked like evidence of a marriage that had never truly belonged to me.

I carried my bags toward the door.

Gerald was still standing there.

For a second, I wondered if he would say something.

Anything.

He didn't.

I walked past him.

My shoulder nearly brushed his.

I stopped.

Just for a second.

I didn't turn around.

I wanted to say goodbye.

I wanted to tell him I had loved him.

I wanted to ask him why he never told me he didn't love me.

But what would be the point?

So I swallowed every word.

I walked downstairs.

I walked through the house I'd spent three years making into a home.

And I left.

I didn't look back.

Not once.

Behind me, Gerald remained silent.

And I didn't know that the man who had just watched me walk away was still convinced he'd made the right choice.

He believed he was finally giving his first love the second chance they had once lost.

He believed the ache in his chest was nothing more than the discomfort of ending a three-year arrangement.

He believed Calista would eventually move on.

He believed he would too.

He didn't know yet that the silence she left behind would become the loudest thing he'd ever heard.