Chapter 2 I’m Going To Make It Up To You Tonight

Watching Mia walk away, Timothy felt an inexplicable pang of anxiety.

She was off today. Too calm.

In the past, whenever she saw Maya or heard anything about her, Mia would pout her soft lips, her bright blue eyes clouded with irritation. And she had always paid close attention to every household expense, every purchase and detail. After he signed the monthly bills, she would always chat excitedly about the little changes around the house.

But today, she said nothing.

A flicker of hesitation crossed Timothy’s face. In the end, he decided to go upstairs and check on her. She had looked pale earlier—was she feeling unwell?

As he climbed the stairs, Mia heard his footsteps and opened the door before he could knock, just as she always did.

“What is it?” she asked coldly.

Timothy’s handsome features tensed, his brow furrowing deeper. “Are you alright? You look a little pale.”

Honestly, he would have rather she screamed at him, like she used to, than look at him with such indifference.

Mia touched her cheek and shook her head. “I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong.”

She no longer smiled at him, nor did she melt into his embrace like she used to when he showed her even the smallest bit of care.

Now she finally understood: his coldness toward her affection had never been because he was naturally distant.

It was simply because he did not love her.

If he would never love her, there was no point in continuing this marriage any longer.

“Is that all?” Mia tried to close the door.

Just then, Maya’s footsteps approached—she was coming upstairs.

“Mia, I need to ask you a small favor. I think Tim is about to tell you about it,” Maya smiled sweetly, positioning herself between them, her gaze fixed on Timothy.

Timothy nodded. “Maya’s condition has been unstable lately, and she needs constant care. She’ll be staying here for a few days. Please make sure she’s well taken care of.”

Staring at his calm, indifferent face, Mia felt her heart sink into an abyss of cold.

He had not come to check on her at all; he had only spoken to her for Maya’s sake.

A sharp, bitter sorrow washed over Mia.

Before she could dwell on it, Maya slipped her arm through Timothy’s and looked up at him sweetly. “The doctor said plenty of sunlight is crucial for my recovery. I noticed only Mia’s master bedroom gets good light. Could I stay there?”

Timothy looked troubled. Mia couldn't tell whether it was because he was worried she would refuse, or for some other reason. All she saw was that his frown deepened.

He gently pulled his arm free from Maya’s grip and reached for her wrist, about to speak.

Mia beat him to it. “Fine. Stay there if you want, Maya.”

She could not bear to watch them flirt any longer. Just the sight of them leaning against each other twisted a knife in her heart.

Maya’s face lit up with gratitude. “Thank you so much, Mia! That’s so kind of you. Could you move out quickly, though? I really need to rest. I’ve already walked and talked so much today.”

Mia let out a cold, scornful snort.

Maya knew she’d talked too much? Then she should just shut up.

Ignoring Maya, Mia turned back into her room and began packing.

Timothy raised a hand, wanting to say something, but she paid him no mind.

There was nothing to say. She would leave quietly, without causing them any trouble at all.

She just wanted to cut ties with him and walk away.

Maya went downstairs happily to fetch her suitcase, calling over her shoulder, “I’d like the maid to change the sheets later. Will you tell her, please?”

Mia felt sick to her stomach.

She yanked the sheets off her bed and threw them on the floor—they still seemed to hold the warmth of last night's kisses with Timothy. But none of that mattered anymore.

Mia then grabbed a few everyday clothes from her wardrobe—the rest she’d have the maid throw away or return to Timothy. They were designer gifts from him; they were never really hers.

As she packed, Mia forced herself to stay calm and focused. She swore she would not snap at Maya or blame Timothy anymore. It was not worth it.

Suddenly, Timothy’s voice came from behind her, startling her.

“Aren’t you upset?” He stood close behind her, his emerald eyes fixed on her.

Mia’s hand froze mid-motion as she packed. She had not expected him to stay, but it no longer mattered.

Without looking up, she said quietly, “You told me you and Maya are just friends.”

A painful, bitter irony rose in her chest. She lifted her gaze and looked at him sharply. “What, was that a lie?”

Timothy frowned. His lips parted, then he sighed. “No. It’s true. I’m just surprised you didn’t throw a tantrum today. But this is good. You’re finally being reasonable.”

A bitter smile was all Mia could manage. Inside, she was ready to explode—to curse him out right then and there. God, he was such a jerk.

Timothy then added, “I’m sorry for the inconvenience. I’ll make it up to you.”

Mia nodded and kept packing—a silent hint for him to leave.

This time, he left quickly.

Mia took a deep breath and pushed him out of her mind. She finished packing in minutes, moved out of the master bedroom she had occupied for three years, and into the much smaller room next door.

Seven days. Just seven more days to stay here.

As soon as the divorce agreement took effect, she would leave.

Mia stayed upstairs for the rest of the day, tuning out Maya’s sweet voice echoing through the villa.

She could tell how delighted Maya was. Tonight, Maya would likely share a bed with Timothy. But that was none of her concern.

After a hot shower, Mia wrapped a bath towel around herself and walked toward the single bed.

Just then, the door swung open.

Timothy walked in, locked the door, and loosened his golden tie as he approached her. Everything felt so normal, as if he belonged right there.

Mia clutched the bath towel to her chest, surprised. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you…”

She wanted to ask him, “Aren’t you supposed to be with Maya?”

Yet, her words were cut short by his touch.

His rough thumb brushed gently over her soft lips, his deep emerald eyes fixed on her.

“We didn’t finish last night,” he murmured, his voice warm and magnetic. “I’m going to make it up to you tonight.”

The next thing she knew, her back was against the cool wall. His fingers traced a slow path from her lips down to her shoulders, brushing over her collarbone with deepening desire. Meanwhile, his other hand traveled from her inner thigh upward, hovering teasingly close to her pussy.

A soft moan escaped her lips, fueling his desire further. He slid his long fingers into her hair, gently gripping it to tilt her head back, leaning in to capture her mouth with his.

Her heart pounded so violently it threatened to leap from her throat. Reason told her to push him away, but her limp body refused to obey.

Just as his lips were an inch from hers, a startled cry shattered the moment.

Maya’s panicked voice rang out, desperate and urgent. “Ah! Tim, where are you?”