Remarried, But No Longer in Love

The dinner party ultimately ended on a sour note. Zoe Nicholson’s face was as cold as ice as she dragged me into the car.

The moment we were out of sight of our former high school friends’ prying eyes, she could no longer hold back her emotions. Her eyes turned red, and she glared at me, her voice thick with bitter frustration.

“Connor, what on earth do you want? We’re married again! Can’t you care about me a little more?”

I held the steering wheel, my gaze fixed on the rain outside the window. My tone remained flat and emotionless.

“How do you want me to care about you? Like when I used to call you ten times in a row to interrogate you whenever you were an hour late coming home? Or when I flew into a rage every time I saw you together with Joshua?”

She was stunned. A deadly silence fell over the car, leaving only the sharp, agonizing sound of raindrops hammering against the glass.

After a long time, she finally sniffled, and her tone softened as she probed, “Why have you been so cold to me since we remarried? It’s like… I don’t matter to you at all anymore.”

“You’re overthinking it.”

I withdrew my gaze and met her eyes calmly.

“I just think we’re all adults here, and there’s no need to overanalyze things, nor is there any need to grasp onto things too tightly.”

Those words were the exact words she had said the last time she asked me for a divorce.

Now that I had said them back to her word for word, she instantly blew her top and slammed her hand hard against the dashboard.

“Connor! What the hell do you want? I swore to you that Joshua and I are just friends and that I will stay away from him. What else do you want from me? At the reunion today, I made a point of sitting far away from him and didn’t say a single word to him all night! What’s that look on your face?”

She had always been spoiled. The fact that she could give me so many “explanations” all at once was already her limit.

If this had been the past, I would’ve softened long ago and compromised. I would’ve held her and apologized, saying, “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have let my imagination run wild.”

Now, however, I found it ironic.

I slowly looked up and stared at the anger and hurt in her eyes. My tone remained indifferent as I said, “Like I said, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. I don’t care.”

I didn’t care? How could the old me have not cared?

I used to care about how she made up all kinds of excuses to keep Joshua Green by her side as a driver so that they could spend every waking moment together.

I used to care that Joshua showed up on every one of our important occasions. From birthdays to wedding anniversaries and even my grandmother’s birthday party, she brought him along every time, claiming that Joshua had no one to take care of him.

I used to care that whenever she received a late-night call from Joshua, she would rush out the door without a second thought, even when I was lying at home alone with a high fever, completely uncared for.

I once thought I would win her back with my tolerance and patience; I once thought that our years together could outweigh whatever so-called “friendship” she shared with Joshua. That was until the day I came home early from a business trip.

The moment I opened the door, I saw Joshua sitting on the sofa wearing my pajamas. Zoe was snuggled in his arms, holding a cup of my favorite tea, and smiling as she fed it to him. In that instant, all my patience and hope shattered.

I didn’t fly into a rage, nor did I demand answers. I simply took out my phone calmly and snapped a picture of the scene. Right after that, I asked for a divorce.

Back then, she couldn’t have cared less. She had laughed and said, “Fine, let’s get a divorce! I’ve been sick of you for a long time anyway. With Joshua around, I’m not afraid of anything.”

I chose to walk away with nothing. I gave up the company we had built together, the house, and the car and took only the watch my grandmother gave me.

I thought that by doing so, I could completely sever all ties with her and start my life anew, but fate played a cruel joke on me.

Less than a month after the divorce, my grandmother was diagnosed with late-stage lung cancer.

Not only did it require a massive sum for the surgery, but it also called for long-term chemotherapy.

I borrowed money from everyone and emptied all my savings, yet I managed to gather only half of what was needed.

Just when I was at a dead end and on the brink of losing all hope, Zoe appeared.

Dressed in custom haute couture and sporting exquisite makeup, she stood in the hospital hallway looking condescendingly at me.

She had mocked and threatened me. “Connor, do you realize how hard life is now? I’m the only one who can save your grandmother. I can pay for all her medical expenses and transfer her to the best private hospital, but on one condition.”

She leaned down, putting her lips close to my ear, and said coldly, “I want you to get on your knees and propose to me again.”