Chapter 1

While I was making breakfast, my girlfriend, Christina Davenport, suddenly wrapped her arms around me from behind and rested her head on my back.

"Don't forget to make my breakfast as well," she said softly. "I'm hungry."

Her faint, elegant scent drifted over me, and my heart began pounding uncontrollably.

This was the first time she'd ever backed down first during one of our silent standoffs. But the very next second, she spoke again, her voice muffled.

"I'm leaving on a business trip today. I won't be back for a whole month."

She paused, seeming to hesitate, before finally blurting out, "With Adrian."

I felt like I'd fallen into an icy lake. My hand froze midair, the spatula hovering over the pan.

Lately, nearly every argument we had had was because of Adrian Blackwell, the new assistant she had hired. He was a young man who kept harping about "where there's a will, there's a way", but was actually completely incompetent when it came to doing the actual work.

Christina, however, insisted Adrian was cheerful, outgoing, and hardworking. She took special care of him, more than enough to make me jealous.

Our most recent fight had been because I had collapsed at the office from a sudden cardiac arrest, yet she had chosen to take Adrian out for dinner instead.

A bitter smile tugged at my lips. So her fleeting moment of tenderness was nothing more than a transaction.

I nodded.

"Take care of yourself while you're away," I said." Try not to eat too much junk food."

Christina seemed surprised that I hadn't argued with her today. After all, in the past, I'd get visibly jealous just seeing her talking and laughing with Adrian.

She turned my face toward her, stood on her tiptoes, and brushed a quick kiss against my cheek.

"Don't worry, Jeremiah. After this trip, Adrian will be fully trained, and I can let him handle things on his own. Then I'll try to take some time off and spend it with you."

After breakfast, Christina offered to do the dishes. In the past, she'd always complained that the dishes were too greasy and that the dish soap was too harsh on her hands, so she'd never been willing to do them.

I'd always indulged her and never made her wash a thing.

This time, I said nothing. I just stood behind her and watched as she washed the dishes, an apron tied around her waist.

She seemed to sense my gaze and turned with a smile. "Haven't you looked enough?" she teased. "Once I'm back from the trip, you can look all you want. How about that?"

Her smile was warm and gentle, as if we'd never argued—as if we'd always been a loving couple.

But I knew better. She was only trying to make it up to me because she was feeling guilty.

I grabbed her suitcase and offered to drive her to the airport. She hadn't expected me to be so attentive today, and her eyes crinkled with happiness.

Just as I was about to pull out of our apartment complex, another car drove up. The driver honked once, and Christina immediately placed her hand over mine, signaling me to stop the car.

Then, she quickly unbuckled her seatbelt, opened the door, and said excitedly, "Adrian, what are you doing here?"

The corner of my mouth twisted into a mocking smile.

Even from this distance, she'd recognized him immediately. Deep down, she'd probably been hoping all along that Adrian would come to pick her up.