When I made the deal with the Stones back then, they said they would pay for Winnie's treatment, provided we kept Giselle out of the loop. They didn't want them to think this marriage was just a transaction.

So, this was how they explained it to her.

I smiled bitterly, ready to explain it all to Giselle, but she stared at me, irritation burning in her eyes, her brows knitted tightly. "Stand there and stay away from me! You're trespassing! Leave, or I'll call the police!"

She took a few steps back and even pulled out her phone to type a message. "A man came, claiming to be my husband again. Can you come over, Jasper?"

Jasper immediately replied. Before long, he arrived at our doorstep.

When he entered, he patted my shoulder and stood before Giselle, his face full of contempt. "Stop scaring her. You know she can't recognize you."

He then turned around and put on a drastically different expression, saying gently, "He's really your husband, Giselle. He won't hurt you."

Yet Giselle shook her head. She moved her nose slightly, as if trying to identify something.

Then, she stepped back and pointed at me. "He smells bad. He doesn't have Leslie's scent. But yours is the only one that hasn't changed, Jasper. Tell me, is that man threatening you? You can tell me!

"If he's trying to trick me, I'll call the police right now!"

Giselle might not be able to see people's faces, but because her sense of smell was sharper than anyone else's, she relied on that instead.

I lowered my head and looked at myself. There was half-dried blood on me. My firefighter uniform was covered in ash, sweat, dirt, and the smell of hospital disinfectant.

I believed those things had affected her judgment.

Just as I was about to explain, my phone rang with a call from the hospital. I answered, listened for more than ten seconds, and didn't say a word.

For some reason, Giselle panicked a little, seeing how I was standing still. Her voice was soft, carrying a nervousness even she hadn't noticed. "W-What's wrong with you?"

I slowly raised my head and looked at her face, the same one I had looked at for three years. Every time she failed to recognize me, I would patiently reintroduce myself.

Whether it was the first, 100th, or the 677th time, I had never grown tired of it because I knew she was sick. But now…

"She's dead, Giselle. My sister's dead. The innocent woman you'd dragged out of the hospital today is dead," I said slowly, each word felt like it was being carved out of my chest.

"She had late-stage bone cancer. It was under control, but because she was dragged out of her ward and had to transfer, she started bleeding heavily. She didn't make it. She's gone."

Giselle's lips trembled, as if she wanted to say something.

It didn't matter anymore.

"Let's get a divorce."