Dragging her wounded, bloodied body, Savannah finally returned home, only to hear Chantelle's meek voice from the second floor. "Ricky, it's storming tonight… Will you tuck me in?"

Meanwhile, Savannah struggled up the stairs, gripping the railing.

Hendrick was ready to turn Chantelle down, but when he glimpsed the sight of Savannah from his peripheral vision, he changed his mind.

"Of course," he said, wrapping his arm around Chantelle's waist before leading her into the master bedroom. He barely looked in Savannah's direction.

A wry smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and she continued dragging her battered body to the guest room.

Over the next few days, Savannah stayed cooped up in her room to focus on finishing her submission for the design competition.

The design industry was the place she planned to dive back into after the divorce.

Once, she was the most talented student in the design department at her university. Her mentor, Magnolia Vogel, had even said she was destined to become a star in the design industry.

However, all that changed when Hendrick caught her being walked home by a male colleague one day.

"Quit your job, or it's divorce," he had threatened before walking away.

Of course, Savannah had chosen to resign without hesitation. But now, she was finally ready to pick up her pencil again.

Just as she was fully focused on perfecting her design, the door suddenly swung open. Hendrick entered with Chantelle, his gaze landing on her sketch.

With a darkened expression, he snapped, "I told you I don't like you doing this. If you want me to cancel the divorce, stop touching these."

As he spoke, he snatched the pencil from her hand.

Savannah looked up at Hendrick, finding it all laughable. Did he really think he could still threaten her?

She said nothing, quietly packing away her design sketches.

He assumed she had given in, so he took Chantelle with him. Before exiting the room, though, Chantelle's eyes lingered on the sketches for a few seconds.

Frankly, she was intrigued.

About three days after the submission, Savannah received a call from the organizers.

"Ms. Johnson, I'm afraid to inform you that your entry is suspected of plagiarism. Unless you can prove otherwise, your participation will be revoked."

"What?"

Savannah couldn't believe her ears. "Whom did I plagiarize?"

"Your submission is identical to the piece submitted by the rising designer, Chantelle Stone. She's popular right now, and there's no way she'd plagiarize you.

"So, unfortunately, we have to disqualify your entry," the caller said.

Instantly, Savannah recalled the look in Chantelle's eyes when she saw her sketches that day. Panicking, she said, "I have the original sketches to prove it!"

After hanging up, she tore through the room, searching desperately, but the sketches were nowhere to be found.

"Looking for this?"

Chantelle's voice rang from behind. Savannah spun around, only to see the missing sketches in her hand.

"Why do you have them?"

"Because…" Chantelle playfully shook the papers and continued, "I said I liked them. So, Ricky got them for me without even thinking twice!"

She inched closer to Savannah's ear, then whispered, "Don't you see it? Ricky is in love with me, not you. Just accept reality and stop thinking about salvaging your marriage.

"The only way you'll benefit both yourself and us is by leaving… for real this time."

Truthfully, Savannah's mind went completely blank at that moment.

She rushed to confront Hendrick, but he simply said, "I told you I don't want you messing with this stuff. If you'd just listened and given it up, none of this would've happened."

She looked at the man she had foolishly loved for seven years, feeling like her heart was being ripped apart.

Why was he always like this, dismissing her passion and feelings? If it weren't for those old love letters, she would've never believed that he had ever cared about her at all!

Knowing her case was hopeless without the original sketches, Savannah knew there was no point in arguing. She stumbled back to her room, shutting herself in the dark.

Her ringtone suddenly dragged her back to reality.

"Savannah, I heard you're making a comeback!"

Magnolia's voice was unmistakably excited. "I saw your work at the design competition!"

Savannah choked on her tears. "I swear I didn't plagiarize, Ms. Vogel…"

"Of course, you didn't!" Magnolia was confident and encouraging, "Your talent is unmatched. There's no way you could've plagiarized!"

A sigh escaped from her lips before she continued, "Too bad, you gave up your career for—"

"That was my worst mistake." Savannah wiped off her tears and said, "We're divorcing, and I plan to have a fresh start."

"That's great!" Magnolia exclaimed. "Would you like to join me at my studio in Alvaria? Your upperclassmen are here as well.

"Now that our studio has made a name for itself, if you join us, we'll make sure you shine as the brightest star in the world of design!"

"Is that… possible?"

Magnolia hardened her tone, pretending to be angry. "Of course, it is! I know your capabilities. Had you not left back then…"

Savannah took a deep breath. "Alright. I'll do it. I'll join you guys once the divorce is finalized."

As soon as she finished speaking, Hendrick pushed open the door and fixed his eyes on her. "What was that?"

Savannah quickly ended the call and pretended to be calm. "Nothing."

Hendrick narrowed his eyes, but didn't press further.

Instead, he calmly suggested, "I know things have been sour between you and Elle because of the sketches. Tomorrow, let's all have fun at the amusement park."

Savannah wanted to say no, but the words caught in her throat.

She remembered how she used to beg him to go to amusement parks with her, and he would always brush her off, saying it was childish.

If she refused too quickly now, it might raise his suspicion.

"Sure," she answered softly.

The amusement park was buzzing with people.

Hendrick stayed close to Chantelle the entire time, buckling her seatbelt on the roller coaster, helping her onto the carousel, even feeding her ice cream by hand.

Savannah trailed behind them like an unwanted shadow.

Then, when Hendrick stepped away to answer a call from work, Chantelle suddenly grabbed Savannah's hand and suggested, "Let's ride the drop tower together, Savannah!"

The latter instinctively pulled her hand back. "I don't want to."

"Come on. Ricky told us to make amends with each other," Chantelle said. She then whispered in Savannah's ear, "Are you still mad about the sketches? You're acting petty, don't you think?"

Curious glances from nearby parkgoers landed on them.

Savannah pressed her lips together, not wanting to cause a scene in public. With no better option, she reluctantly followed Chantelle onto the ride.

As the safety bar locked into place, Chantelle suddenly leaned in with a smirk. "Did you know? Ricky said he's taking me to Viremont once the divorce is—"

Before Savannah could respond, the ride suddenly jolted violently. In the split second the safety harness snapped, she felt the air vanish beneath her.

She and Chantelle were both plummeting from over 30 feet in the air!

Wind howled past her ears as Savannah squeezed her eyes shut in despair. However, the expected pain never came. Instead, she landed in a warm, solid embrace.

When she opened her eyes, she found herself staring into Hendrick's panicked gaze. His arms were wrapped tightly around her waist, his breath coming fast and uneven.

"You…"

Savannah had just spoken when he abruptly let go, as if burned by a realization.

"I grabbed the wrong person," he said stiffly, before turning sharply toward the fallen Chantelle.

"Elle!" he shouted, rushing to her side.

…

In the hospital corridor, a doctor rushed over, his expression tense.

"The patient's experiencing severe blood loss. We need an emergency transfusion. She's RH negative, and the blood bank's nearly out."

Immediately, Hendrick's gaze darted to Savannah. "You're RH negative, too."

It wasn't a question but a statement.

She leaned weakly against the wall, blood still seeping from the gash on her knee. As she met his eyes, she suddenly understood what he meant.

"Donate your blood," he said, stepping closer. "Then I'll agree to cancel the divorce application."

His breath brushed past her ear, carrying that familiar, cold scent. Once upon a time, being this close to him would've made her heart race. Now, all she felt was numbing cold.

When the nurse brought over the blood donation consent form, Savannah signed it without hesitation. She knew that if she refused, Hendrick would grow suspicious.

She couldn't afford that—not with her plan to leave for Alvaria hanging by a thread.

So, the needle pierced her vein, drawing her blood as it slowly filled the bag, one after another.

"We need to stop, she's tapped out!" the nurse exclaimed. "She's already at her limit!"

Savannah's vision blurred, waves of black washing over her eyes. A ringing then filled her ears.

In her haze, she saw Hendrick standing at the bedside, frowning. His lips were moving, but she couldn't make out a single word.

The hospital's stark white walls were almost painful to look at.

After the blood transfusion, the doctor insisted that Savannah stay overnight for observation. Throughout it all, Hendrick never showed once.

Her phone, however, buzzed endlessly. They were photos from Chantelle, most of which displayed Hendrick feeding her soup, sitting by her bedside, and her sneaking a kiss on his cheek while he slept.

Savannah deleted each one without blinking. It turned out that when her heart stopped beating for him, the pain would magically disappear as well.

On the final day of the divorce waiting period, Savannah woke up early. Sunlight streamed through the curtains as she packed the last piece of clothing into her suitcase.

The flight ticket to Alvaria sat quietly in her bag, and the departure time was 3:00 pm.

Right then, the doorbell rang. Hendrick stood at the door, suit sharp as ever, like he had just stepped out of an important meeting.

"Chantelle's out of the woods," he said flatly. "I'm a man of my word, so I'm coming with you to cancel the divorce."

Savannah stared at him quietly.

"But…" he added, "if you mess up again, I'll file for divorce without hesitation."

She almost laughed at the possibility of that. It wouldn't happen again because she would finally be living her life for herself, away from him.

The car ride to the courthouse was quiet. When they pulled up at the entrance, Savannah gripped the strap of her bag tightly.

"We're here." Hendrick unbuckled his seatbelt and said, "Let's get this over with. Once we're done, I need to head back to the hospital for Elle."

Savannah glanced at the familiar glass doors of the courthouse. Her fingers subconsciously traced the edge of her phone.

She had to get rid of him somehow—he couldn't go in with her!

"I—"

As soon as she spoke, his phone rang.

"Elle?" Hendrick frowned as he answered the call. "What's wrong? It's okay, don't cry. I'll be right there."

He ended the call and turned to Savannah. "She's not doing well. I need to go now. Just go in, cancel the filing, and text me when you're done."

She lowered her gaze, hiding the wave of relief washing over her. "Okay."

It wasn't until she watched his car speed off that she turned and walked into the courthouse.

The familiar clerk smiled and greeted her, "Mrs. Cook, here to cancel your application again?"

"No," she answered, pulling out the prepared documents from her bag. "I'm here to pick up the divorce certificate today."

Back home, Savannah placed the divorce certificate belonging to Hendrick on the coffee table, then grabbed her suitcase.

The door closed softly behind her, but it felt like a knife cutting through seven years of hopeless dreams.

The sun was shining bright on her way to the airport. She rolled down the car window, slowly closed her eyes, and breathed in the air of freedom.

Goodbye, Hendrick.

This time, she was giving up on him for good.