Chapter 3

I lowered my eyes, my thoughts drifting uncontrollably back to the past.

Benedict had me pinned against the office desk.

A strange light flickered in his eyes as he smiled and said, “Don’t you think what we’re doing feels like an affair? Thrilling, isn’t it?”

His sweat dripped onto me as he held me.

“At the wedding, I’ll make our relationship public.”

I smiled at my past self, foolish and pitiful, believing his sweet lies over and over again.

Then I was deceived thirty-two times.

Now, with the divorce agreement and resignation letter in my bag, there would be no next time.

…

Two hours later, my colleagues and I were busy handing over work when Benedict sent me a message: [Send a cup of coffee in.]

He was notoriously picky; the balance of sugar and bitterness in his coffee had to be exact.

In the company, only I could make it taste just the way he liked.

Sighing, I got up to prepare the coffee.

I did not expect to see Anna in the pantry.

When she saw me enter, a disdainful smile tugged at her lips.

“Your temper is improving, Maya. I thought you were about to burst into the office and catch us in the act.”

She deliberately lifted her chin, revealing the glaring red mark on her neck.

“Is that so?” I lowered my eyes and picked up the coffee beans.

“Want a cup? Jamaican Blue Mountain has excellent notes.”

My calm left Anna momentarily stunned.

She appraised me from head to toe, as if inspecting some strange creature.

“What are you showing off? Do you really think Benedict would divorce you?

“I’ll tell you the truth. Back then, it was my little joke that made Benedict register his marriage with you.

“That’s why he never had a wedding ceremony.”

“What are you on about, Anna?” said a voice.

Benedict’s tall figure squeezed into the pantry.

His face showed panic as he quietly rebuked Anna.

But Anna clung to his arm like a spoiled child.

“Well, isn't it the truth? You only agreed to marry Maya to appease me.”

Benedict’s expression twisted into something rather ugly.

He seemed ready to argue as he opened his mouth, but said nothing.

His eyes darted nervously, avoiding mine, his face written with guilt and confusion.

I stood frozen, Anna’s words echoing in my ears.

Between Benedict and me, it had always been me taking the initiative.

I had pursued him for five years, from my first awkward confession to finally gathering the courage to propose.

He had never refused me, but he had never truly agreed either.

The day Benedict suggested registering our marriage, I had been so happy I could not sleep all night.

I had believed my love had finally reached him, that he held me in his heart.

But now, the cruel reality cut through every one of my fantasies like a knife.

I let a bitter smile tug at my lips and pushed the brewed coffee in front of Benedict.

“Your coffee is ready, Mr. White. I’ll be leaving now.”

With that, I ignored his flustered expression and silently turned to leave.

That evening, just as I was about to turn in, my phone rang.

It was Benedict.

“Hey Maya. What Anna said this afternoon… It’s all nonsense.

“Don’t take it to heart.”