I don't remember the cab ride home.

By the time I unlocked the door to the penthouse, the tangled mess in my head had completely spiraled out of control into a devastating chaos. The vines wrapped around my heart felt like they were ripping it to shreds.

I walked into my private study and slammed the door shut. The calm facade I had been forcing finally shattered completely.

I grabbed a stack of hardcover books off my desk and hurled them onto the hardwood floor. They hit with a deafening crash. But it wasn't enough.

I tore into the bookshelves, ripping pages out of novels and throwing them into the air like a twisted, grotesque snowstorm.

I grabbed skincare products, crystal ornaments Silas had brought back from business trips to Tokyo and London, and the intricate Lego sets we had built together on rainy Sundays.

I smashed them all. Glass shattered, plastic cracked, and the room was instantly reduced to ruins.

The urge to destroy morphed into a blinding rage.

I stood there, panting, drenched in sweat, surrounded by the wreckage of my own life.

My eyes fell on a pair of metal scissors resting on the edge of the desk.

I picked them up, rolled up my sleeve, and pressed the cold, sharp steel against my forearm.

Before I could draw the blade, a sharp bark shattered the silence.

Nova threw himself at my calves, whining as if he were the one in agony. He pawed at my legs, his little face twisted in distress.

The scissors slipped from my trembling fingers, clattering onto the floor. Nova immediately scrambled into my lap, frantically licking my hands, my arms, anywhere he could reach.

I sank to my knees amidst the broken glass and shredded paper. I pulled his warm, furry body tightly against my chest and, finally, mercifully, broke down.

The destructive high faded, leaving only a bottomless abyss of despair.

I buried my face in the dog's fur and sobbed until my throat bled.

When Silas burst through the front door, the penthouse was dead silent, the study locked. I was sitting on the living room sofa, legs tucked under me, composed and poised.

He strode into the room, his tie tossed aside, breathing heavily. He looked at me, his eyes frantically scanning my face.

I knew he wanted to explain; he just didn't know how to start.

I had been his partner in this high-society game for four years. I had taught him how to avoid social traps and skillfully defuse conflicts on the board.

He was a master of corporate warfare, but faced with the collapse of his home, he was speechless.

Before he could say a word, I smiled. It was the most tender, understanding smile I had ever given him.

"It's okay, Silas," I said softly. "I know Serena just moved back to the city and lost all her old connections. You just wanted to help her get back on her feet, which is why you took her to the gala."

Silas stared at me, his face pale. "Nina, I—"

"It's really okay," I interrupted, my tone gentle, almost maternal. "I don't mind at all."

He froze.

We stared at each other in the silent apartment. My gaze remained locked on him, my eyes full of tenderness and forgiveness.

Eventually, he was the one who looked away.

He suddenly crossed the distance between us, fell to his knees beside the sofa, and wrapped his arms tightly around my waist. He buried his face in my stomach, pulling me against him so hard I could barely breathe.

"Nina," he gasped, his voice muffled by my clothes. He sounded almost desperate. "You've lost so much weight."

I stroked his dark hair, smiling at the wall behind him.

I said nothing.

His suit jacket still reeked of that heavy gardenia perfume, almost suffocating me.

I swallowed hard, fighting down the nausea rising in my throat.

The next morning, I got up before dawn, brewed his espresso, and packed his lunch.

When he emerged from the bedroom, dressed in a sharp Tom Ford suit, he headed for the door but stopped halfway through the foyer.

"Nina," he said softly, "I forgot my tie."

I sighed—a look that perfectly encapsulated a deeply loving but exasperated wife. I went upstairs, grabbed a dark blue silk tie, came back down, and handed it to him.

He didn't take it. He lowered his head, his eyes intense. "Do it for me, Nina."

I stepped closer, looping the silk around his collar, my fingers deftly tying the knot. He stood perfectly still, obedient and quiet, watching my face. When I finished, I patted his chest. "There."

Before I could step back, his hands locked onto my waist, pulling me hard against him.

"Sila—" The moment I opened my mouth, his lips crashed down on mine.

It wasn't a sweet goodbye kiss; it was aggressive, possessive, and bruising.

He kissed me like a starving wolf, his tongue invading my mouth, his hands gripping my waist tight enough to leave bruises. It was the act of a man desperately trying to prove something to himself.

When he finally pulled away, his chest was heaving, a faint flush high on his cheekbones.

I looked at him, my expression placid, my breathing perfectly even.

He kissed my forehead, his tone a little hesitant this time. "I'm going to work, Nina."

"Have a good day," I smiled.