The confusion

George’s POV…

Vivian’s response annoys me. I cannot believe that she readily agrees to end this marriage. She didn’t ask me a question. She didn’t even cry.

"Ugh…" I slam my fist on the steering wheel. "Why am I thinking about her? It’s good she agrees to the divorce readily."

As I continue driving, I cannot stop recalling the time we have shared over the year.

Our marriage indeed held its share of beautiful moments. Vivian had been a devoted wife, tending to my needs both inside and outside the bedroom. If it weren't for Megan's sudden return, I might have considered continuing this contract for another year.

But Vivian's rapid acceptance of the divorce catches me off guard. Instead of the expected sadness or a hint of hesitation, her readiness to part ways seems almost eager. It is as if she has been counting down the days, waiting for me to bring up the topic so she can swiftly sign the papers. The thought gnaws at me, igniting a spark of frustration within.

The scene of our intimate moments still lingers in the back of my mind. Those moments are hot, and I remember her enjoying my company.

Why did she moan so loudly if she was eager to distance herself from me? How could she enjoy my touch? How could she revel in the pleasure of our physical connection?

It seems contradictory, leaving me puzzled and disenchanted.

I suddenly remember why she agreed to this contract marriage. Vivian confided in me at the time about her crush on someone, who didn’t want her, and her desire to use this marriage as a means to move on and forget that man.

I can't help but wonder if that man still holds space in her heart and if she has merely seen me as a tool to escape her unrequited love.

Despite my own initiation of the contract marriage and my subsequent request for its termination, a simmering annoyance takes hold of me.

How could she readily agree to move on? Am I simply a stepping stone on her path to finding the love she truly desires?

The weight of this realization bore down on me, casting shadows of doubt and resentment.

"I don’t care," I mutter. "She is free to date anyone she likes. It makes no difference to me. I am going to have a better life than her with Megan."

If Vivian has already set her sights on a future without me, then I have no reason to carry the burden of guilt. I am entitled to pursue my own happiness, unshackled by the weight of a marriage that has seemingly lost its purpose.

With a determined resolve, I propel my car forward, the engine roaring in tandem with my racing thoughts.

Megan's place beckons, promising a familiar solace that I have long yearned for. The allure of rekindling the flame with her intensifies, fueling my desire to leave behind the complexities of this crumbling marriage and embrace the familiarity of what once was.

I finally arrived at Megan’s apartment. I press the doorbell.

After some time, Megan opens the door. She looks sexy, draped in nothing but a towel. A sense of familiarity mixed with desire engulfs me. She flashes an alluring smile. Her eyes, filled with a mix of longing and regret, meet mine.

"George…" She envelops me in an embrace. "I've missed you. I apologize for calling you here at such a late hour, all while knowing the presence of your legal wife waiting at home."

Her face falls as she pulls back and looks at me. "You are not angry with me, are you?" She bites her bottom lip.

As soon as she mentioned my wife, Vivian's swift agreement to the divorce echoed in my mind, intensifying my annoyance and stirring a flicker of defiance within me.

"Megan, I... I've missed you too."

Seeking solace in this reunion, I press my lips against hers with fervor, a desperate attempt to convince myself that I no longer care for Vivian.

She responds with equal fervor, her kisses mirroring her unrestrained desire. Yet, despite Megan's bold attempts to seduce me, I can't help but notice the absence of the same fiery passion that ignited within me when I kissed Vivian.

Something is amiss, and I don’t know what it is. I don’t know why I don’t feel the same fire with the woman I love. I even don’t know why I am still thinking about Vivian, my contract wife, at this moment when I am with Megan, the love of my life.

How can this be possible?

I stop kissing and pass my fingers through my hair, not able to look into her eyes.

Megan holds my shoulders and asks, "What happened? Why did you stop?"

I can clearly hear the disappointment in her tone.

"Are you not feeling well?" She stretches her hand and puts it on my forehead.

"I am okay, Megan," I say, pushing her hand away gently and walking aside. "I… it’s late, and I am tired."

"I know. I shouldn’t have bothered you so late at night." She sighs and comes in closer, taking my hands in hers. "But I couldn’t wait to see you." Her eyes are watery. "I love you, George. I love you so much." She hugs me as she confesses her feelings for me.

I instinctively wrap my arms around her.

"I'm sorry for leaving you a year ago," she murmurs. "I was foolish and selfish, choosing my career over us. I let you marry another woman to fulfill your sick grandmother's wish."

Her words tug at a chord in my heart, stirring a mix of emotions within me. As I gaze into her eyes, a part of me wants to surrender to the allure of starting anew and embracing a future with Megan. Yet, the lingering question remains: Why can’t I forget about Vivian? What is happening to me?

Megan's gaze pleads with me, her eyes shimmering with unspoken desire. "Is it too late, George? Have you fallen for Vivian? Please tell me there is still a chance for us. Marry me if you haven't fallen in love with Vivian."

Caught in the midst of conflicting emotions, my mind races to find clarity. I can't deny the connection I once shared with Megan, yet I am unsure of how to respond.

Why did Vivian’s face appear in front of my eyes?

The divorce agreement

"George, please. Give us another chance. I regret what I've done, and I'm willing to make it right. I love you." Megan tightens her grip on my hands, urging me to answer.

I keep looking into her eyes, speechless. Maybe I am searching for answers in the depths of her gaze.

"Say something," she urges.

"Megan, you are thinking too much." I finally find my voice. I can’t believe that I am avoiding answering her. "It’s late. We will talk later. I will first go check the lights you asked me to check."

I walk away, feeling her gaze on me.

Megan grabs my wrist, pulls me over, and makes me turn around and face her. Her disappointment radiates from her eyes, penetrating my heart. I want to console her and alleviate the pain I have unintentionally caused.

As she wraps her arms around me in a tight embrace, her words spill forth.

"I know I made mistakes in the past," she says, "and caused you distress. I shouldn’t have left you. I agree that I was selfish… a moron who failed to cherish the love. What a heartless person I have become to hurt you, and I hate myself for that. Sorry, George. Please forgive me."

The resentment in her tone is palpable.

I cannot understand if she is angry with herself or with me… Maybe with Vivian. I don’t know. It’s confusing.

"Megan, please... don't blame yourself," I murmur. "We both made mistakes. I should have waited for you instead of surrendering to Grandma’s pressure."

"But you made the decision to marry Vivian back then because I left you," she sobs. "It’s my mistake. So, it is only me to blame."

Her arms remain wrapped around me, a silent plea for forgiveness and understanding.

"I am back now, and I want to rectify the mistakes I made. I will do my best to win your heart and make you fall in love with me all over again. Please don’t give up on me."

Listening to her heartfelt words, I can't deny the depth of her love for me. I am moved. Yet, I can't help but notice the absence of that familiar spark that used to ignite within me in her presence, even though she holds me so closely, her half-naked form pressing against me. It perplexes me, leaving me questioning my own emotions and desires.

I desperately want to understand why my heart doesn't respond to her the way it once did. Is it the passage of time, the experiences I have shared with Vivian, or something else that has shifted entirely within me?

I stand there with Megan clinging to me, my mind yearning for clarity.

"Megan, I appreciate your sincerity and your unwavering love," I confess, my voice tinged with a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. "Stop apologizing now. We are good. Now show me the light that is not working."

I avoid answering her once again.

She loosens her grip slightly, her eyes searching mine for answers.

I muster a smile.

"Do you want me to fix the light or not?" I ask again, pretending not to know what she is yearning for.

"Come with me." She sighs and leads me to her bedroom. When we enter the bedroom, she points at the bedside lamp. "It was not working."

"Okay. Let me check first." I check it and find that the bulb is not working. "The bulb needs to be changed. Do you have an extra bulb?"

"Can you check in the cabinet in the hall?" she asks as she walks into the closet.

I walk out to the hall and find a new bulb in the cabinet. When I come back into the bedroom, I see her wearing a baggy white T-shirt.

She is not wearing any bottoms other than her panties. Her erect nipples are visible since she was without her bra. Even though she looks like a seductress, I find my desire missing, which is surprising.

I don’t know. Maybe I am too tired. I just want to finish the work here and leave.

I fix the bulb, and the lamp returns to its illuminating glory.

"It’s done."

I turn to her and meet her eyes, which are burning with unspoken desire.

"It’s late now. I should leave."

"What is the hurry? The night is still young. Sit and talk to me for a while." She holds my hands, looking at me nostalgically. "We are meeting after a year. Let me cherish these moments."

Her longing to open her heart to me and reveal the depths of her feelings is too obvious to ignore. But the hour is late, and my excuses spilled forth, attempting to shield myself from the emotional complexities.

"Megan, you should rest. We can talk later."

"Have some drinks with me," she urges, "and we will relish the memories we shared in the past."

"I’d love to. But it’s late now. I have an early morning meeting to attend." I lie to escape.

"Then rest here," she says adamantly.

I chuckle. "Another time. You need rest. Sleep."

I can see the disappointment in her eyes as she nods and allows me to leave.

"Good night."

I can't ignore the pang of regret that tugs at my heartstrings as I walk out of her house. Megan deserves to be happy.

I could have stayed with her in her warm embrace, relishing our past, but I chose to leave. I don’t want to face Vivian either. So, I drive to the office.

The next day…

My mind is a whirlwind of frustration and confusion as I sit at my desk amid mountains of paperwork. I can't focus on anything. Each task feels like an insurmountable challenge, and my irritation grows with every minor issue.

I employed a bunch of fools. They don’t even know how to resolve a simple issue.

"Humph…" I still forced myself to check some files.

Just as the workday is nearing its end, there is an unexpected knock on my office door. The interruption makes me frown.

"Come in…"

A middle-aged man enters.

My frown deepens as I continue to look at him. Who is he?

"Mr. Stanley, I am Vivian Simons’ lawyer."

He hands me a stack of papers.

The divorce agreement.

My annoyance turns to fury when I read those words.

I clench my fists tightly. How dare she send me a divorce agreement?

It is my decision, my prerogative to end this marriage whenever I deem fit. I want to tear the documents to shreds and throw them into the trash can.

Since I cannot do this, I look up to say something, but he is gone.

"What? Ugh…"

I shove the documents into the drawer and leave the office.

When I reach home, I see Vivian's suitcase tucked away in the corner of the hall. It intensifies my already mounting annoyance.

I don’t know why I feel that my entire world is crumbling around me. I can’t think of Vivian going away from me. But why?

I don’t love her. It's Megan, whom I always love.

My thoughts are a tangled mess of anger, confusion, and a deep-rooted sense of loss. I wanted to end this marriage. Shouldn’t I be happy? I can't comprehend why I feel this restlessness.

"I have to figure it out," I mutter, taking out a bottle of wine from the fridge.

I sit at the table and pour myself a drink. The once cheerful house is silent now, and this silence is only adding to my inner turmoil.

She used to welcome me whenever I returned home from the office. But tonight, she didn’t come out.

Does she even know that I am home?

My frustration grows, and I cannot sit quietly any longer. I storm into the bedroom, determined to question her.

"She dares to send me the divorce papers," I mutter. "I will show her who is the boss here."

I come to a halt as I see Vivian sleeping blissfully in her pink satin nightgown, her beautiful features glowing beneath the warm light of the nightstand.

I can't deny the allure she exudes; the curve of her body is tempting me. I cannot stop watching her.

She looks attractive.

When my eyes land on the marks I left on her neck last night, I can no longer control my desires. I lean in and press my lips against her skin, relishing the taste and the warmth it ignites within me.

Hormones surge into my veins.

I lie beside her and take her into my arms, kissing her lips fervently.

Vivian stirs, her eyes fluttering open, confusion and resistance evident in her expression. But I can't restrain my own growing intensity.

"George… mm…"

I kiss her even harder, hugging her tightly.

"Stop, George. We can't do this." She tries to push me away.

"Why?" I growl, irritated.

"We are getting a divorce, remember?" she reminds me, still struggling to break free.

Her words irritate me even more.

I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know why I want her so much. My brain is not in a state to think straight. All I want at this moment is Vivian.

I want to see her surrender to me.

I smirk and say, "Well, I haven’t signed it yet. You are still my wife, and you have obligations to satisfy your husband."

I smack my lips against hers, this time more fiercely.

Conflicting emotions

I wake up early, the morning light casting a gentle glow across the room. I step into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. The events of last night play on a loop in my mind, leaving me tangled in a web of confusion.

Why hasn't George signed the divorce agreement I sent him? Wasn't he the one who said he wanted to end this marriage?

I can't make sense of his contradictory actions and words. On one hand, he insists on demanding my intimacy and treating me as his wife; on the other, he claims he wants to sever our ties.

The weight of his expectations burdens me. How can he ask me to fulfill the duties of a wife while simultaneously declaring his intention to leave? It's a paradox I can't decipher.

Does he truly want to end this marriage, or is a part of him still yearning for something more?

Confusion swirls within me like a storm, and I struggle to find solid ground amidst the tempest of my emotions. I thought I knew where we stood, but now I question everything.

Ding-Dong…

The sound of the doorbell disrupts the peaceful morning air, stirring a mix of curiosity and apprehension within me.

"Who could be visiting at such an early hour?"

With cautious steps, I make my way to the door.

As I swing the door open, my breath catches in my throat. Standing before me is Megan, wearing a sly smirk that sends a shiver down my spine. Her presence alone is enough to ignite a storm of emotions within me.

"Good morning, Vivian." She walks into the house confidently as if she is the mistress of the house.

She wastes no time taunting me, mentioning George's grandmother's upcoming birthday party.

"George used to invite me every year," she adds. "Last year, I wasn’t here and couldn’t attend the party. Since I am back, I won’t miss this time. I am going to buy a birthday gift for her with George."

The realization that he always invited Megan to these family gatherings hits me like a sudden gust of wind, and I struggle to maintain composure. It's a painful reminder of their shared history, a connection that I can't seem to sever.

Before I can gather my thoughts, George emerges from the room, dressed immaculately, betraying that he was already aware of Megan's arrival.

"George…" Megan rushes over to him and hooks her arms around his neck. "Good morning."

She plants a kiss on his cheek.

The sight of them together stings, as if a thousand needles pierce my heart. I remain standing there, my face a mask of indifference, determined not to reveal the depth of my emotions.

"Good morning." He returns her smile.

The pang of pain intensifies, but I refuse to let it show. Instead, I turn my back and retreat into the kitchen, seeking solace within the confines of familiar surroundings.

I busily set the table for breakfast, my movements mechanical. I try to drown out their presence, the laughter, and the shared memories that once belonged solely to George and me.

"Pancakes!" Megan walks up to the dining area, her face full of surprise. "George, you still like to eat pancakes at breakfast!" She exclaimed with delight. "Awe… you haven’t forgotten even after a year that I love pancakes."

The corners of my lips hook slightly into a sneer as her words reach my ears.

I had never known about Megan's fondness for pancakes, and yet it seems to have become a shared preference between her and George.

How could I, in the span of a year, fail to create even a ripple within his heart?

The realization hits me like a heavy blow. I had naively believed that our time together, our shared experiences, and our intimate moments had fostered a genuine connection. His actions, his tender gestures, had led me to believe that he had fallen in love with me.

How foolish I was to have been swayed by his impeccable acting, and his portrayal of a devoted husband.

George, ever the gentleman, adeptly played the role of a loving husband, masking his true feelings with grace. But now, it becomes clear to me that he had never truly let go of Megan.

His heart still yearns for her, despite the passing of time and the charade we have been living. He had merely fulfilled his responsibilities, adhering to the duties he deemed necessary.

The truth is a bitter pill to swallow, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. At this moment, I understand the depth of my own naivety.

I had hoped that perhaps, against all odds, I could ignite a spark within George's heart and become the one he truly loved. But it seems that destiny has other plans, firmly aligning George's affections with another.

I gaze at them, sharing a moment of nostalgic joy over a plate of pancakes. Their connection, unbroken by time and separation, is a painful reminder of the love that remains beyond my grasp.

I gather my strength, ready to face the reality that lies before me. I must find the courage to let go, to release myself from the grip of a love that was never truly mine. Swallowing my disappointment, I bury my own desires deep within my heart.

A sudden wave of morning sickness overwhelms me. With an urgent need to escape, I rush toward the bathroom.

"Vivian…" George's worried voice fills the air.

His concern rings hollow in my ears, tinged with a hint of hypocrisy.

"Are you okay?"

I take my time to answer him. Through my peripheral view, I can see him standing by the door.

"Why didn't you say you weren't feeling well?"

I manage to compose myself, rinsing my mouth with water.

"I am fine. It’s a minor issue. Perhaps, I ate something that wasn’t fresh enough." My response is calm, almost detached.

"I am taking you to the hospital," he says authoritatively.

"I am a doctor and capable of taking care of myself." I try to protest.

George, ever persistent, refuses to listen to my reassurances.

"You are coming with me and that’s final. Don’t make me repeat myself."

He pays no heed to my words, already heading towards the door with a resolute determination. It is as if his decision is final, leaving me with little say in the matter.

In the midst of our exchange, Megan stands there as a mere spectator to this unfolding scene.

George stops right beside her and says, "I am taking you to the mall first."

With that, he walks out the door.

His priorities are clear, and his agenda is already set. And within this whirlwind of events, I am left feeling like a passenger, my voice silenced, my wishes dismissed.

As George's footsteps fade in the distance, I am left standing there, grappling with a mix of emotions. Frustration intertwines with resignation; my thoughts are a jumble of conflicting feelings.

I sigh and stroll to the bedroom to bring my purse. When I come out, I spot Megan in the hall. A flicker of surprise dances within me as I wonder why she is still here instead of going out with George.

Her stern expression sends a chill down my spine, foreshadowing an impending confrontation.

Megan approaches me.

"Don't mistake George's polite gestures out of guilt for his love for you. You should know better." Her voice is dripping with coldness as she delivers her words with calculated precision.

I meet Megan's gaze unwaveringly, my indifference veiling the underlying emotions that swirl beneath the surface. I refuse to allow her assumptions and judgments to seep into my psyche.

"I am not misunderstanding anything. Rest assured, Megan."

I stand tall, my defenses fortified.

Megan's presence, her possessiveness—it all serves as a painful reminder that George's heart still lingers elsewhere, in a place that I cannot reach. But I refuse to let her belittlement diminish my resolve.

"You shouldn’t feel insecure when you believe in yourself."

I square my shoulders and walk out.