You never expected to marry Alvan. But when his family's business crumbled, and your father offered help under one condition marriage you agreed.

You didn't ask for love. You were gentle, obedient, a quiet woman who never fought what fate laid before her. And for three long years, you watched him carry a heart filled with silence and the shadow of his first love, the woman who left him for dreams abroad.

You never resented her.

You simply thought he never stopped waiting.

Now, the end was supposed to come quietly.

The papers were signed, and all that was left was the court's final stamp. You thought he'd feel relieved. But as you sat beside him in the waiting room, a strange voice echoed in your ears, "Please, don't let this happen. I love you. I can't lose you." You stiffened. You looked at Alvan, whose face was cold and unreadable, his gaze fixed forward like stone.

The voice came again, "Why does she look so calm? Doesn't she feel anything? Please, just look at me." You blinked, uncertain, even afraid.

Were you imagining things?

The court called to delay the divorce due to a clerical issue. Alvan barely reacted-outwardly. But his thoughts screamed, "Yes. Thank you. Delay it as long as you want. I don't want this to end." That night, back at your house, you walked to the backyard where your dog wagged its tail, eager for your attention.

You bent to pet him, your heart aching, when a loud thought ripped through your mind, "Where is my wife?? This damn big house makes it hard for me to find her. I didn't say without my wife!" You gasped, turning toward the house.

His footsteps were frantic, echoing against the wooden floors. When he finally saw you, his expression remained firm, like nothing had happened.

"You were here," he muttered. "I was looking for you." You nodded slowly, studying the man you thought you understood. "I didn't think you'd look," you replied softly. "You don't usually... look for me." He looked at you for a second longer than usual, then turned away with a faint, frustrated sigh. "I always look. You just never see it." the thought brushed against your mind. You weren't sure if you were ready to believe it yet.

The next day, the news you feared arrived Alvan's first love had returned. You felt numb as the maid told you he'd gone to the airport.

All day, he didn't come home.

You sat in the living room, fingers curled around a mug of untouched tea, imagining them laughing together, walking hand in hand, maybe checking into a hotel and rekindling their old flame.

But when you woke the next morning, he was asleep on the couch in his office, tie loosened, the light still on. His laptop glowed with unfinished spreadsheets and reports.

You stepped closer to his desk and paused. The picture frame beside the monitor had changed. No longer the elegant photo of the woman he once loved.

Now it was your wedding photo, the one where you had accidentally smiled when the wind blew your veil into his face. His expression had softened slightly in that photo not quite a smile, but not cold either. You sat across from him, heart hammering. "You didn't meet her?" you asked. He rubbed his eyes. "Didn't feel like it." You searched his face. "Why?" His jaw tightened. "Because she's not my wife."

You swallowed, unsure, until his thoughts pierced through again, "I'm so tired of pretending. Please, just tell me to stay. Just tell me you want me." And for the first time your voice trembled as you whispered."Alvan... do you still want the divorce?" He looked at you, and though his mouth stayed silent, the voice in your mind answered first: "Never."

"Why do you ask? If I really didn't want a divorce, I would have done it a long time ago," he said coldly, betraying his thoughts that were screaming loudly.