The sound of running water from the bathroom stopped abruptly.

I quickly marked the messages as unread. I hadn't even had time to set the phone down when a force slammed into me from behind. My head struck the corner of the nightstand with a sharp thud, and a wave of pain surged through me.

Then came Nick's furious voice, laced with disbelief and rage. "Who said you could touch my phone? Linda, do you even understand what personal privacy means?"

Nick's expression was dark. His brows were tightly drawn together, eyes cold and fierce.

The way he looked at me made my skin crawl. I instinctively shrank back.

His expression shifted. He reached out toward me. "Baby, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Don't come near me." I raised a hand to shield my head, my voice trembling with fear.

His hand froze in midair. The room fell into a terrible, suffocating silence.

Three years. I'd dodged that same hand more times than I could count. Pleaded with him, begged him not to lose control.

But my begging never changed anything.

His face twitched, like he'd only just remembered his diagnosis—intermittent explosive disorder.

He withdrew his hand, his voice hardening. "You're the one who touched my phone first. That's why I lost control and pushed you. You brought this on yourself. Don't touch my phone again. We might be married, but I still have a right to privacy."

With that, he turned and left without hesitation.

As he walked away, I caught the faintest trace of a smile tug at the corner of his lips when he looked at the screen.

The moment he left the room, my entire body went slack with relief.

Nick was like a ticking time bomb. One wrong move, and I'd be blown to pieces.

I didn't know how much he loved Casey. I didn't even know if he would leave me for her.

What I did know was that I feared his episodes. I feared the next moment he would "lose control" again.

So, I booked a flight for tomorrow. I left all the divorce arrangements to my lawyer.

The next morning, when I got up, Nick was shockingly in the kitchen.

He came out carrying a rather unimpressive-looking breakfast, while carefully packing another, far more refined one, into a lunchbox.

Noticing my confusion, he gave me a gentle smile. "This one's for the office. Baby, I was wrong last night. I let my emotions get the better of me and pushed you. I promise, it won't happen again. Just forgive me this once, okay?"

I pulled out a chair and sat down. "You've made this promise so many times over the past three years. Why should I believe you now?"

The smile on his face froze.

He crouched in front of me, more solemn than ever. "I swear, this time it really is the last time."

I looked straight into his eyes and tested him. "If you do it again, we'll get divorced. How's that?"

His expression darkened instantly. His grip on my hand tightened—too much.

Then he stared at me with frightening sincerity. "No. We're not getting divorced. We promised to be together forever, remember? I won't allow it. I'll change. If I lose control again, you can punish me however you want—but I won't divorce you. Ever."

His gaze seemed to pierce straight through me, and for a second, I felt cold all over.

I pulled my hand away and forced a smile. "I was just kidding, Nick. You should get to work."

But instead of leaving, he sat down across from me, eyes locked on mine like he was afraid I might disappear.

He grinned. "I'm not going to work today. I'm staying home with you."

His stare made my skin crawl. I knew then—I'd crossed a line. The moment I mentioned divorce, I'd stepped right on the edge of his control.

Before I could figure out what to do, his phone rang.

He glanced at it, frowned slightly, then turned to me. "I'm gonna take this call real quick. Think about where you want to go today. I'll take you anywhere."

He walked into the study.

I looked at the lunchbox on the table. Deep down, I already knew—it wasn't for the office. It was probably meant for Casey.

Moments later, Nick rushed out. As he passed me, he paused briefly, hesitating.

"Baby, I forgot—I've got something urgent at work. I'll come pick you up once I'm done, okay? Just stay home. Don't go anywhere."

He grabbed the lunchbox and hurried out the door.

I stepped onto the balcony. Down by the curb, I saw Casey waiting.

She looked to be about four or five months pregnant. Nick guided her into the car with the utmost care.

Just before the door closed, Casey looked up—her eyes locked onto mine. She smiled. Smug. Triumphant. And waved.

But what she didn't expect was the expression on my face. No shock. No panic.

The car sped away. Without hesitation, I headed downstairs and hailed a cab to the airport.

While Nick accompanied Casey for her prenatal checkup, he couldn't shake the hollow feeling in his chest.

More than once, he picked up his phone and stared at my number, but he couldn't bring himself to dial.

Until Bryan's call came in. He answered and froze.

"Sir," Bryan said, "a lawyer came by. Said he's been authorized by your wife to discuss the terms of your divorce."