Chapter 1

It was the third day of our cold war.

I’d just walked through the door when Mr. Davies, our butler, presented a massive bouquet of roses.

Mr. Davies’s smile was a little too sweet, a little too forced.

“Sir realized his mistake. He personally picked out your favorite red roses this morning.”

“If Sir didn’t have a meeting today, he would have delivered them himself. Please don’t be too angry, you’re the most important person to him.”

To cover for Julian, Mr. Davies piled on the compliments, but after a long day, I just felt irritated.

Red roses were my favorite.

My hand lifted, but I didn't reach for them. I wearily rubbed my forehead and walked past the butler, heading upstairs.

Every time we argued, Julian would send me lots of things.

Usually, I’d cherish them like treasures.

But after finding that love letter, these gifts felt like a cruel joke.

It was almost time for the seasons to change, and I wanted to update my wardrobe.

While tidying up, I found a yellowed envelope at the bottom of my closet.

Pink trim, old-fashioned. I knew immediately it wasn't mine.

I’d been looking at it for less than half a minute when Julian, fresh out of the bathroom, rushed over and snatched the envelope from my hands.

He carefully inspected it, making sure it was undamaged, then folded it up.

As if just realizing I was there, he looked at me, stunned.

Julian showed no sign of embarrassment or shame at being caught. Instead, his gaze held a hint of reproach.

“Why are you rummaging through my things? Even after marriage, people need their own space. You’re getting more and more out of control.”

Just for accidentally seeing something of his, I was being judged.

It was as if the marriage vow, "Everything I have is open to you," had never been spoken.

I pressed my lips together, meeting his eyes.

“Aren’t you going to explain yourself?”

The name on that love letter was Chloe, my high school desk mate.

The date was during our sophomore year.

Julian and I had gotten together at a reunion dinner after graduation.

He confessed his feelings, and I immediately accepted.

I’d forgotten that day was the second day Chloe had left the country.

In high school, I was quiet. Chloe was outgoing and could chat with anyone.

Because we were desk mates, Chloe often talked to me.

To be honest, I liked her back then.

We had a good relationship, sometimes ate together, and discussed girl talk.

Julian, however, didn’t seem to think he was in the wrong. He said,

“What’s there to explain? *You* should be explaining yourself. Why were you going through my stuff?”

The atmosphere hung heavy until his phone rang. He answered it, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Forget it, I forgive you. Just don’t touch my things again.”

He tossed out the words, then casually threw on some clothes and left.

As for the love letter, he acted as if he’d forgotten about it, never mentioning it again.

It wasn't that I hadn't made a scene before, but his contemptuous, helpless gaze always cut deep.

He’d said:

“We’re married now, what else do you want?”

His words tightened around my heart, squeezing until I couldn't breathe.

The window was open, the air circulating, yet I felt suffocated.

In that moment, for the first time, I began to truly examine our years together.

That night, I had already fallen asleep.

In my dream, a dog kept clinging to me. Drowsily, I opened my eyes, met by a pungent smell.

Julian, reeking of alcohol, was kissing me.

His eyes were moist, like a golden retriever who had finally found its owner.

After years of marriage, I got up and gently pushed him aside, intending to get him some diluted salt water to sober him up.

I sat up, putting on my shoes, when suddenly a warm presence pressed close behind me.

Julian hugged me tightly, burying his head against my shoulder.

His voice was full of grievance:

“Don’t leave.”

I turned my head, my gaze tinged with a hint of sarcasm.

“Am *I* the person you want to stay?”

The moment the words left my lips, I felt the person behind me stiffen.

The pressure on my shoulder eased.

I turned around to see Julian lying flat on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, his eyes deep and vacant.

My heart ached, my nose stung, but a cold, mocking smile touched my lips as I continued.

“Is it because my parents passed away that you pitied me and married me?”

He was the one who proposed, six months after my parents died in a car accident.

I was devastated then, and he volunteered to help me manage the company.

Before helping me, Julian had lost a fortune trying to start his own business.

He was desperately looking for loans, and relatives and friends avoided him like the plague.

He finally begged me to let him join the company to repay his debts with his salary.

Unfortunately, his meager salary couldn't even make a dent in the massive debt.

He could only solve it by dipping into the company’s funds.

I saw how hard he worked for the company, so I never exposed him.

Later, after we got married, he gradually took over the company, allowing me to pursue work I loved.

He promised me that my shares in the company would remain the highest, and he did keep that promise.

But the reality now was Julian asking me:

“So what do you want now?”

I gave Julian a sidelong glance. The tearing pain in my heart made it hard to breathe. Disappointed, I stood up.

My hand was taken, a warm palm connecting to icy fingertips, a confusing mix of hot and cold.

Julian repeated his question, this time with a hint of compromise, forbearance… and a touch of disgust.

“What else do you even want?”