Until The End: The Love Survival Protocol

The moment Esme saw Cassandra’s smile, she knew something cruel was coming.

The café was half-full that afternoon, sunlight spilling through the wide glass windows. A soft melody played from the speakers, but Esme barely heard it. Her hands were wrapped around her cup of coffee, untouched since it had arrived.

Across from her, Cassandra Leigh — her husband’s childhood friend — smiled sweetly back at her.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Cassandra began, pushing a sleek envelope across the table. “but since you’re… well, you’ve been through so much, I just thought you deserved to hear it from me.”

Esme didn’t move.

It was already strange enough that Cassandra had suddenly invited her out for lunch. Although she was friends with her husband, Esme hadn’t failed to notice the faint hostility the other woman had toward her.

Esme lowered her eyes to the envelope in front of her. “Hear what?”

Cassandra leaned back. “That Lennox and I are seeing each other.”

The words didn’t explode immediately—they sank, slow and heavy. For a moment, Esme thought she’d misheard.

Cassandra smiled wider, sensing her disbelief. “Oh, come on. Don’t look so shocked. Everyone in the circle knows. You’ve just been so busy playing the devoted wife that you didn’t notice.”

Esme’s throat tightened.

After a moment, she tapped lightly on the envelope. “And what’s this?”

“Oh, pictures,” Cassandra said, almost cheerful. “I thought you’d need proof.”

Esme’s fingers hesitated before she picked the envelope and pulled the photos out.

They weren’t anything indecent.

Just subtle — Lennox beside Cassandra at a private dinner, his jacket over her shoulders, her hand brushing his arm.

Each shot was careful enough to imply nothing, yet cruel enough to suggest everything.

Esme stared at them quietly, her fingers cold against the glossy edges.

Across from her, Cassandra crossed one leg over the other, her lips curled in something that wasn’t quite a smile.

“You must feel relieved,” she said suddenly. “At least now you know why he barely touches you. A man can only pretend for so long.”

A few heads turned from nearby tables. Cassandra’s voice wasn’t loud, but her tone carried so several people looked over curiously.

That made Esme’s skin crawl and she pursed her lips with displeasure. She had recovered from the shock of that announcement and leaned back, exhaling slowly.

“So this is something you’re proud of?” she asked softly. “Flaunting that you’re sneaking around with a married man? Cassandra… aren’t you embarrassed?”

Cassandra’s face stiffened.

Esme didn’t give her time to recover. She nudged her chin toward the photos.

“If this is your idea of winning him over, I can’t tell what’s more pathetic—the photos or the fact that you think they prove anything.”

Cassandra looked like she had just been slapped. Clearly, those words grated on her nerves.

“You talk like you have a place beside him,” she hissed. “Let me remind you of something you seem to forget—Lennox and I were meant to be together. Our grandfathers already agreed on the match years ago. You were the outsider who slipped in at the last second.”

Triumph glittered in her eyes.

“And, he only married you out of charity. So don’t let the ‘Mrs’ get into your head.”

Esme lifted her gaze slowly.

“Charity?”

Cassandra’s eyes immediately constricted and she shut up the instant Esme picked up on that. Clearly, she wasn’t meant to hear it.

“Hm?” Esme’s eyes instantly narrowed as she prodded her further. “What are you talking about?”

Cassandra looked torn. On one hand, she seemed to love the thrill of humiliating Esme with the secret she knew. And on the other hand, she feared Lennox would blame her if he found out.

But after a moment of struggle, her desire won and she declared arrogantly, “Yes. Everyone knows it was because of what happened back then. You were in such a bad spot, and he couldn’t just walk away. That’s the kind of man he is.”

Esme fell silent. Whether from shock or simply gathering herself, it was impossible to tell.

Cassandra leaned forward, sensing the impact.

“Or are you still hoping he’ll fall in love with you someday?”

She laughed lightly. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’ll never love you.”

The blow landed.

Esme’s fingers curled once on her lap, the only sign she felt it.

Cassandra was satisfied, and her tone coaxing. “You’re doing well now, Esme. You should stop holding onto something that was never really yours.”

Esme stared down at the glossy photos, then back up at the woman who claimed to be helping her. Then, she took a breath, letting the ache settle.

“Cassandra,” she said softly, “you’ve said a lot. But you still haven’t answered one thing.”

Cassandra blinked. “What?”

Esme lifted her eyes, meeting hers squarely.

“If his heart was ever yours,” she said, her voice soft but ringing, “why did you need to come to his wife to beg for it back?”

The café went silent.

Cassandra’s smile faltered.

“W-What did you—?”

“If you were meant for him,” Esme continued, still soft, “he would have chosen you. Weddings don’t happen by accident.”

Cassandra’s face flushed, her anger rising bright and ugly. “Don’t flatter yourself—!”

Esme raised a hand gently, stopping her. “You think stepping aside for me was charity?”

A faint, sad smile touched her lips as she spoke.

“You’re right,” she murmured, her eyes unusually calm. “He’ll never love me. But you know what’s worse, Cassandra? He’ll never love you either.”

Cassandra was speechless.

She could not find a single word to retort at the moment and simply stared at Esme in disbelief.

Esme didn’t wait for her to recover, either.

She stood up and the chair scraped softly against the floor as she gathered the photos on the table.

Cassandra instantly came to her senses. She reached out hurriedly, flustered. “Hey—”

Esme was faster and quickly tucked the photos into her bag. Cassandra panicked and stood up.

“No, you can’t take those!”

Esme’s lips curled faintly. “Why?”

The other woman could not find the right words to say and stuttered, “You— You just can’t—”

“Why?” Esme repeated, raising a brow.

Cassandra didn’t speak.

“You just don’t want these left lying around,” Esme met her eyes this time. “You wouldn’t want him to know you showed me.”

Cassandra froze.

Esme didn’t argue further. She straightened her coat, nodded once, and left.

…

By the time Esme reached home, dusk had melted into night.

The house was quiet and spotless, as always.

She washed her hands, pulled her hair back, and began to cook.

It was more of a habit tonight; her mind barely focused as it replayed everything Cassandra had said.

Charity.

The word pressed into her like a bruise.

She’d always known he didn’t love her the way she loved him.

But to think he married her out of pity…

Esme’s throat tightened.

No wonder his friends were always politely distant.

They knew.

They must have known everything he thought of her.

Nothing but charity.

Her chest twinged with pain. She leaned on the counter for a moment and exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself.

Then her gaze fell on the sleek chef’s knives resting in their wooden block—the ones Lennox had given her without ceremony after noticing her old set were dull.

Her initials were engraved near the handle.

She swallowed.

If she was only a charity case…

why was he so attentive?

Why would a man like him notice something as small as the knife she struggled with?

The contradiction only made her chest ache harder.

As she stood there, she realized she couldn’t keep drowning in her own thoughts.

She had to know.

She wanted to hear the truth from him.

Even if it hurt.

Even if it shattered what they had.

She just needed to know if Cassandra was right.

After making dinner, she set the table, lit the romantic candles she had recently bought, and sat down to wait.

Today was the last day of his business trip; he should be home soon.

When the front door finally opened, Lennox’s familiar footsteps echoed through the hall.

He stopped in the dining room doorway, his tall frame filling it. He loosened his tie, his eyes moving from the lit candles to her face, eyebrows lifting faintly.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Dinner,” she said simply. “You’re home early.”

“I wrapped things up faster than expected.” He loosened his tie further, a faint smile touching his lips. “It smells good.”

She smiled back, almost forgetting the weight in her chest. They ate quietly. He poured her wine, asked about her work, mentioned an itinerary he’d had someone prepare for her next conference.

His thoughtfulness warmed her heart, almost enough to ignore reality.

When he reached for the dishes afterward, she noticed him sway slightly by the table, but quickly steadying himself.

“Lennox…” she shot up with concern. “Are you okay?”

The moment passed, and he stood straighter, shaking his head lightly.

“I’m okay,” he reassured her. “Just fatigue.”

Esme eyed him suspiciously, but he seemed fine. She followed him to the sink, stopping him.

“Leave it. I’ll clean up.”

He nodded and leaned against the counter, sleeves rolled up. In that soft kitchen light, he looked gentler than usual.

Maybe tonight, she thought, maybe she could just ask.

As he turned away, she stepped behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist suddenly.

He stopped instantly, almost as if he hadn’t expected her to be so proactive.

His hands trembled slightly at his sides as he looked down at her. His eyes were unusually gentle, and he seemed tempted to hold her back.

But he forced them still.

Esme was oblivious. Her heart hammered loudly as she prepared to speak.

“Lennox,” she whispered, “I love you.”

He stiffened in her arms instantly.

For a moment, she thought he hadn’t heard. But his breath hitched quietly, almost imperceptibly.

His reaction unsettled her.

He wasn’t saying anything. Did he dislike her that much?

Her heart pounded.

“I just wanted you to know. I know you didn’t marry me for love, but I… I was hoping, maybe someday—” She laughed softly, self-conscious. “I sound pathetic, don’t I?”

He remained silent, unmoving.

When the silence stretched too long, she stepped back.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she murmured. “Just… look at me.”

At first, he didn’t react, as if he intended to ignore her.

Then, slowly, he seemed to reconsider and turned to look at her. There was hardly any emotion in his eyes.

Something broke quietly inside her at the sight.

She clenched her fists at her sides.

“Are you seeing Cassandra?”

The man’s brows furrowed instantly.

“What is this about?” he asked quietly.

Esme pulled back, placing the photos on the counter between them. Cassandra’s smile stared back from the glossy paper.

“I saw these today,” she said. “Do you want to explain?”

He lowered his head slightly, eyes constricting as he took in the images.

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, a flicker of restrained anger passed across his expression.

His reaction confused Esme and she murmured his name again. “Lennox…”

Her voice seemed to flip a switch in him. The anger vanished, leaving calm as his gaze flicked over the photos once, then back to her.

“They don’t concern you,” he said lightly.

Her breath hitched. “What?”

“They’re irrelevant,” he continued steadily. “Don’t involve yourself in things that aren’t your business.”

Esme looked like she’d just been slapped.

Her throat closed and she looked at him in disbelief. “I’m your wife.”

“I know.”

That calm acknowledgment—nothing more—was what finally shattered her.

She stood there for a couple of seconds like a fool, just processing what he said. After a few moments, she finally laughed… softly. “Right.”

Then she smiled lightly.

“I’m just your charity project, aren’t I?”

When the man heard those words, his gaze stiffened. His hands trembled lightly as he finally looked at her directly.

He studied her face slowly, searching. After a moment, he asked, “Who told you that? Cassandra?”

Esme’s anger flared.

“Does it matter who told me?” she scoffed. “The truth is that you pitied me, so you married me. And now I’m supposed to be grateful and keep quiet.”

He lowered his head silently.

When he looked up again, the conflicting emotions in his eyes had disappeared, leaving only calm.

Esme also stayed quiet, waiting for him to speak first.

When he finally did, it was the cruelest words against her already fragile heart:

“Esme,” he said softly, “I can’t accept your love.”

Esme’s heart faltered. Her lips parted, but no words came. She blinked at him, searching for a hint of feeling—but found only calm.

“Why?” she whispered, barely audible.

He stayed quiet for the briefest second, letting the question hang.

Then his voice rang out again, calm yet chilling:

“Because I don’t need it.”

The words hit like a death sentence, leaving her hollow.

Her lips trembled and she almost broke in tears right there. But, she managed to hold back, not wanting to show weakness.

Eventually, she looked away toward the side door of the kitchen and exhaled softly, trying to steady herself.

Her heart felt as though it had vanished, leaving nothing but a hollow ache. Even in that emptiness, a strange clarity settled over her.

She had loved him quietly, patiently, hopefully.

But tonight, she finally understood.

He didn’t want her love.

He didn’t want anything from her.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “For your kindness.”

Lennox’s brows drew together faintly, confusion breaking through his calm exterior for the first time.

“I mean it,” she continued, voice trembling. “Thank you for your charity, Lennox. I won’t waste any more of it.”

She drew a deep breath, straightened, and met his eyes.

“Let’s divorce.”