Then she shot me another look, dripping with provocation.

"You're truly despicable."

"Trying to force Boyd out by bringing home some filthy scheme like this."

With that, she was done.

She wheeled Boyd into the master bedroom.

That room used to be mine and Melanie's, but Boyd claimed he had "claustrophobia in small spaces."

So once again, without a word to me, Melanie handed it over.

She even set up a cot beside the king bed.

Then she laid down the rules: Monday through Saturday, she'd stay in the master bedroom to take care of Boyd. Sundays, she'd sleep in the guest room with me.

I'd tried talking to her about it.

I'd argued. I'd lost my temper.

But every single time, Melanie said one thing and did another.

That night.

After I got Sylvia settled in, I went to the study. Around midnight, a scream tore through the house.

"What the hell?!"

"Valentine, you sick freak! You're insane!"

Melanie stormed into the study seconds later.

She was wearing a lace negligee, black stockings, full makeup, and perfume.

That was when it hit me.

Today was the weekend.

"Valentine, you gave the bedroom to some random woman off the street."

Her brows were pinched tight with fury.

"Sylvia's in a terrible state. You really expect her to sleep on the floor, or in here?"

I didn't turn my head. My eyes stayed on the computer screen.

Those were the exact words Melanie had once used on me.

She froze for a few seconds, then let out a sigh and walked over, settling herself onto my lap.

"Honey, stop this, okay? Just send that homeless girl away."

"Once Boyd's a little better, I'll have him leave too. Deal?"

Have him leave?

Melanie had said things like that plenty of times before.

And every time, she never brought it up again.

It was nothing but a tactic to keep me quiet.

When I didn't respond, she looped her arms around my neck and leaned in close, her lips brushing my ear.

"Just say yes. Please?"

"It's the weekend. Our time together. Don't let outsiders ruin the mood."

For as long as I could remember, my feelings for Melanie had been both physical and emotional. A complete, consuming kind of love.

All she ever needed was the slightest touch, and my resolve would crumble.

But after more than six months of this, I felt nothing. Not a ripple. Not a stir.

Only something close to revulsion.

Before I could turn her down, Boyd's agonized groan echoed from down the hall.

"Melanie, come help me..."

One second.

That was all it took. Melanie shoved me aside, sprang to her feet, and bolted out of the study.

"Boyd, if you need the bathroom, just call me! You don't have to do it yourself."

"Look at you, falling like that."

Her voice carried through the walls, loud and frantic, overflowing with concern.

I remembered last month. I'd stepped out of the shower, slipped on the wet tile, and cracked my knee open. Blood ran down my shin.

I called for Melanie several times. She never answered.

Later, she'd looked me up and down and sneered, "You're a grown man who can't even walk without tripping. Embarrassing."

Boyd had been right there, stoking the fire: "Val, I'm not trying to steal Melanie from you. We're just friends."

"So there's no need to hurt yourself on purpose just to compete with me for her attention."

Melanie heard that and immediately turned on me, calling me pathetic and childish.

That night, something inside me shattered. I didn't sleep at all.

A while later.

A message from Melanie lit up my phone: Boyd took a fall just now. I'm worried something might be wrong, so I'll stay with him tonight.

This wasn't the first time.

Every weekend, without fail, Boyd would suddenly feel unwell here or uncomfortable there, clinging to Melanie and refusing to let her go.

And Melanie always said yes.

The next morning.

Sylvia and I were eating breakfast.

The moment Melanie stepped out of the bedroom, her brow furrowed. "Where's mine and Boyd's?"

"You want to eat, make it yourself."

I didn't even look up.

What?

Melanie's temper flared. She slammed her palm on the table. "You've completely lost your mind over that woman."

"Ignoring your own wife for some stranger."

Sylvia scrambled to her feet. "I'm sorry, Melanie. Here, take mine."

She picked up her untouched bowl of soup noodles and held it out.

"Get lost!"

Melanie swatted the bowl out of her hands.

"Ah!"

Scalding broth splashed across Sylvia's body.

The skin on her arms turned an angry red almost instantly.

"Melanie."

"What is wrong with you? Sylvia offered you her food out of kindness, and you knock it all over her?"

I berated Melanie while digging ice out of the freezer to press against Sylvia's burns.

Melanie stood frozen, watching the scene.

A vein throbbed at her temple. She screamed, "Valentine, listen to me."

"It's either her or me in this house."

"Pick one!"

I'd been this hysterical once, too.

But Melanie, secure in how much I loved her, had barely reacted. She'd said, "Can you grow up? You think I can't survive without you?"

Now I felt about the same level of nothing.

Before I could respond, Boyd wheeled himself out of the bedroom.

"Valentine, Melanie, are you two fighting because of me again?"

"If I'm the reason you end up divorced, I'll never forgive myself."

"Maybe I should just leave."

His face was a picture of guilt.

On the surface, he seemed concerned for both of us. In reality, he was stoking the fire.

"Boyd, this has nothing to do with you. It's all because this man is too petty."

Melanie comforted Boyd with a few words, then turned a cold gaze on me.

"Boyd just reminded me. If you insist on going against me, then let's get divorced."

"I'll have the papers drawn up today."

And with that,

she pushed Boyd's wheelchair toward the door, calling out smugly, "Come on, let's go have a nice dinner out."

"Melanie, please don't misunderstand. There's really nothing between me and Valentine."

Sylvia shouted after her, but Melanie didn't so much as glance back. Sylvia turned to me, tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry, Valentine. I caused all this trouble. It's my fault."

"Maybe you should just send me back to the hospital."

Melanie paused mid-step. Through gritted teeth, she muttered under her breath, "Conniving little fox."

"You barely escaped that place. You're not going back." I steadied my voice. "Stay here. This is your home now."

I gave Sylvia's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "As long as I'm here, nobody's going to push you around."

The words had barely left my mouth

when Melanie let out a sharp scoff and walked out without looking back.

I didn't go after her. Once we finished eating, I took Sylvia to the mall to buy some clothes.

That was when I spotted Melanie and Boyd in a luxury watch store.

Melanie was holding a watch, fastening it around Boyd's wrist.

Their eyes locked, lingering with an intimacy so thick it was almost tangible.

I recognized that watch. Around fifteen thousand dollars, a model I'd been eyeing for a long time.

But whenever I brought it up, Melanie always said the same thing: "A watch just tells time. Why waste that kind of money? We should be saving for our future kids."

And now here she was, buying it for Boyd.

She'd been covering his medical bills for the past six months, too.

"Should we go say hi?"

Sylvia whispered.

"No need."

I waved her off and pulled her into the clothing store across the way.

Sylvia had barely changed into a dress she'd picked out when Melanie came storming in.

"Valentine, what the hell do you think you're doing? You're actually spending money on her?"

I'd only just turned around.

Sylvia rushed to speak first. "Melanie, please don't be upset. I'm keeping track of every dollar. I'll pay Valentine back once I get a job."

"Shut your mouth, you scheming little tramp!"

Melanie's eyes went wide, and her hand shot up to slap Sylvia across the face.

But I was faster. I caught her wrist before the blow could land.

"You... you're actually siding with an outsider?"

That only made her angrier.

"Don't you side with Boyd every single day?"

My voice was level.

"That's... that's different!"

Melanie clenched her jaw. "Boyd and I have a pure friendship. Whatever's going on between you two is something else entirely."

Boyd chimed in right on cue. "Come on, man. What you're doing here is really out of line."

Out of line?

A cold laugh escaped me. "You freeload under my roof, eat my food, and you think you have the right to lecture me?"

The moment those words left my mouth,

Boyd's eyes turned red on command, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Like a child who'd been scolded for nothing.

Crack!

Melanie slapped me across the face.

"All you ever do is bully Boyd. What kind of man are you?"

"Divorce!"

She spat the word and walked away without looking back.

Beside her, Boyd's lips curved into a faint, taunting smirk.

A victory lap.

I raised my hand and touched my stinging cheek, the words forming silently in my mind.

Melanie.

That slap just burned through whatever was left between us.

That evening,

Sylvia and I came home to an empty house.

A manila envelope sat on the coffee table. I tore it open. Inside was a divorce agreement.

Already signed by Melanie.

My phone buzzed.

Almost at the same moment, her name lit up the screen.

"Boyd wants to get away for a few days to clear his head. I'm going with him. Three days."

"You saw the papers on the table? When I get back, either that little tramp is gone, or we're done. Your choice."

Every syllable dripped with arrogance.

"You sure about that?"

I kept my tone flat.

"Absolutely."

Melanie let out a short laugh. "If you're scared, do what I said. And while you're at it, think about how you're going to make this up to me."

I lowered my head and said nothing.

Then Boyd's voice drifted through the speaker: "Melanie, my back's really itchy. Could you scrub it for me?"

The line went dead.

I shook my head and picked up the pen beside the envelope.

"Valentine."

"You're really going to sign? This isn't something you can take back. Please, just think about it."

Sylvia grabbed my arm, her voice urgent.

"I've been thinking about it for a long time."

I gave her a small smile, gently moved her hand aside, and signed my name on the divorce agreement.

There was a time when I was terrified of losing Melanie.

But patience and love both have a limit. Sooner or later, they run out.

After I set the pen down, I called a lawyer to handle the asset division, packed our bags, and took Sylvia on a trip of our own.

...

That same night,

Melanie had just stepped out of the shower when her phone rang.

"Hello, Ms. Summers?"

"I'm Mr. Gilbert's attorney. When would be a convenient time for you to discuss the division of marital assets?"