I forced a hollow smile, though bitterness prickled at the edges.

"Christopher, why did you marry me if you can't let Roxanne go?" I sighed before adding, "Let's just get a divorce."

His brows drew together sharply, his expression darkening with disapproval.

"Stop being ridiculous," he said, irritation lacing his tone. "Just give me some time. I'll take care of this."

I didn't respond.

Silence stretched between us. I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. If Christopher were capable of handling it, he wouldn't still be caught between me and Roxanne.

Fortunately, Roxanne's sudden arrival broke our standoff. She breezed into the room with a smile, casually looping her arm through Christopher's.

"What are you doing in here?" she teased. "Come help me in the kitchen—we have a guest to entertain."

Her tone dripped with false sweetness, but the way she emphasized "guest" wasn't lost on me. She shot me a pointed look, warning me to know my place.

At last, Christopher turned to Roxanne but remained still. He freed his arm from her grasp, his voice suddenly icy. "We are not a couple."

His words felt like they were meant for me.

Roxanne's expression flickered, a mix of embarrassment and defiance flashing across her face. She quickly recovered and let out a dramatic huff before whining, "We will be soon!"

Without warning, she leaned in and kissed Christopher. I couldn't tell whether he was too slow to respond, but he didn't move away. He was in a daze until she dragged him out of the room.

Bitterness rose in my heart, but I wasn't surprised. This was Christopher—always swinging between extremes. One moment, he'd push me away, and the next, he'd defend me as if nothing had happened.

His contradictions were the reason I couldn't fully let go. But maybe, this time, I'd finally leave him behind for good.

After they left, I didn't feel much of anything. Exhaustion weighed me down, and I drifted into a deep sleep.

Christopher knocked a few times, calling me to join them for dinner, but I was too tired to care. I muttered something dismissive and stayed in bed.

When I finally woke, the sky outside was pitch-black, and the villa was dark. The only sound was Roxanne's tinkling laughter echoing from downstairs.

"Do I look good, Christopher? Ugh, you're so clumsy! Hold this. I'll take the photo," she said.

Christopher's voice, deep and husky, was startlingly clear in the stillness of the night. "Sure, anything you want."

The hunger pangs hit me, so I decided to head downstairs to grab something from the fridge. The front door was left wide open. I could see them clearly in the yard.

Christopher was holding a sparkler, the light softly illuminating his face as Roxanne fussed over, positioning him just right for a photo. His eyes were full of quiet indulgence.

I must have made a sound because Roxanne turned around, her eyes gleaming with smug satisfaction.

She called out, "Want to join us, Willow? Chris just took a ton of pictures of me, and they're lovely!"

Since we were a little apart, I raised my voice to answer, "No, thanks."

But she wasn't letting it go. She headed straight toward me, sparkler in hand.

A sense of unease curled in my stomach. And then, just as I feared, she stumbled, and the burning tip of the sparkler lurched toward my face. I quickly dodged, but it still singed my right ear.

Roxanne and I both cried out sharply.

Christopher rushed over and wrapped her in his arms, his voice heavy with concern. "Are you hurt?"

Roxanne shook her head, a look of sorrow in her eyes.

"I'm fine. I just tripped over something," she murmured, casting a quick glance in my direction.

It didn't take Christopher long to piece things together. He looked up at me, his gaze sharp with accusation. "Quit the dirty tricks, Willow."

I pressed my hand against my aching ear and fixed him with a cold stare.

After a beat, Christopher seemed to sense something was wrong. "What happened to your—"

"Deal with the matter I brought up today quickly, Christopher," I cut him off, my expression neutral. "You were right about one thing, though—Roxanne's tactics are dirty."

Without hesitation, I turned on my heel and walked away.

Back in my room, I ran cold water over my ear. Fortunately, it was just a small scrape. When I checked my phone, I noticed a string of WhatsApp messages from Professor Tate.

"Have you made a decision yet? Are you interested in joining this project?

"It's a rare opportunity that could greatly benefit your academic career and future prospects."

He was talking about the research project he was leading—one that wasn't typically open to graduate students. After recognizing my potential, he made an exception and extended me the offer.

The downside was that the project would last two years, and I wouldn't be able to go anywhere else in the meantime.

Back then, I'd turned him down without a second thought. I had just married Christopher, and there was still much to do. I needed time.

Professor Tate wasn't bothered by my refusal and asked me to reconsider. Now, he'd messaged me again.

I knew exactly what to reply. "I've made my decision, Professor Tate. I'll join the project once my break ends."

It had been four years. It was time to move forward. The moment I hit "send", a knock sounded at the door.

Christopher's voice followed. "Willow, it's me."

I didn't want to see him, not now.

"What do you need?" I asked through the door.

"I brought some ointment for your burn," he said.

I couldn't be bothered to argue, so I simply said, "I don't need it. Please go."

But he opened the door and stepped inside. Before I knew it, he squeezed a dab of ointment onto his finger and gently smoothed it over my burned skin.

"Does it still hurt?" he asked.

I frowned, brushing past his concern, and cut to the chase. "Let's set a date and go to the courthouse, Christopher."

He pulled me into an embrace. His voice came out muffled, with a hint of hurt. "I told you I'd handle this."

I shoved him back, giving him a mocking stare. "Are you trying to fool me or yourself? If you truly wanted to handle this, you'd stand by me, get rid of Roxanne for my sake. Instead, you're making empty promises and putting all the blame on me."

Christopher avoided my gaze and said nothing. It didn't take long before Roxanne called for him, and he left without a word.

I let out a bitter laugh. I should've seen this coming from the start.

That night, I began packing my belongings, determined to move out within two days. I avoided them as much as possible, but Roxanne still came to me.

She approached with a sneer, her eyes brimming with disdain. "You've got quite the knack for playing the innocent houseguest, haven't you? Staying over for a while? Please. It's obvious you're angling to take over my place.

"Sadly, Christopher will never have feelings for you. Quit going after someone else's guy, or you'll end up hurting yourself and others."

I held Roxanne's gaze, suddenly struck by a sense of pity for her.

"Have you ever thought you might be the other woman here, Roxanne? And that Christopher doesn't love you nearly as much as you think he does?" I asked.

She slapped me out of nowhere, her voice rose to a shrill pitch as she snarled, "You shameless woman! What nonsense are you spewing? Do you want me to throw you out right now?"

My cheek stung sharply. I sneered and struck her in return, the force of it knocking her off balance and onto the floor.

I loomed over her, my voice icy. "Why are you so afraid, Roxanne? Is it because you know I'm right? Well, congratulations—you figured it out. Christopher and I got married months ago. So, guess what that makes you now? A homewrecker."

Getting those words out brought an overwhelming sense of satisfaction.

Roxanne froze. Before I knew it, she lunged at me, her nails aiming straight at my face. "You lying snake! Christopher's been in love with me for ten years! There's no way he'd marry you! I'll shred that filthy mouth of yours!"

She moved too fast for me to stop her completely. Her nails raked down my face, leaving fiery trails in their wake. That was when Christopher stormed into the room.

"What are you doing, Roxanne?" he snapped, wasting no time pulling her off me.

Her eyes were brimming with tears, and her face reflected a deep sense of hurt. "Throw her out, Chris! She's spreading lies about being married to you. That's ridiculous!"

Christopher turned to me, his eyes filled with discontent, reproach, and a touch of surprise as if he hadn't expected me to spill the truth.

"Willow Sweeney," he said, his voice low and laced with warning.

I knew exactly what he was trying to convey, but I was unwilling to comply. I smiled as I replied, "What? Did I lie about something?"

The atmosphere was tense, and Roxanne seemed to realize something. She cautiously grabbed his sleeve, asking, "Christopher, is any of what she said true?"

He remained silent; his eyes stayed fixed on me. After what felt like an eternity, he exhaled slowly, his disappointment sinking into his words.

"I told you I needed time to handle this properly, Willow. You don't have to take it this far. You don't really want a divorce. You're just trying to get under Roxy's skin, don't you? You've been holding onto me for four years. You wouldn't just let go now."

A wave of regret crashed over me, sharp and unrelenting. I wasted four years of my life on Christopher, who didn't deserve any of it.

I covered the scratches on my cheek and locked eyes with him as I bit out each word. "Stop flattering yourself, Christopher. I stopped caring about you a long time ago."

But my words seemed to roll off him like water on stone.

"Don't push your luck, Willow," he said. "You're the one who provoked Roxanne first, but I'm willing to let it slide. Stay here for a few days and take some time to think about your actions."

With that, he scooped Roxanne into his arms and walked out.

I smiled, but it didn't reach my eyes. It baffled me how he'd decided I was to blame so easily. Maybe I'd always come second to her in his eyes. Still, it didn't matter anymore.

After Christopher was gone, I moved out of the villa and settled into an affordable hotel.