I froze mid-step, looked up, and saw what was happening inside the room.

Nicholas's expression was impossibly gentle as he spooned porridge to her lips, not saying a word.

Georgia seemed bored. She leaned in and kissed him.

He didn't pull away. If anything, he tried to deepen it.

Then, the next second, she dodged back, her mouth curling with open contempt：“Nicholas James, you're pathetic.”

He grabbed her chin and closed the distance himself, biting down on her lips.

The wet sounds from the hospital room carried through the door.

I don't know how long it lasted. When he finally let go, his voice was rough and unsteady：“Yeah, I'm pathetic. Pathetic enough to fall for you. Pathetic enough to love you year after year after year.”

Year after year?

Could a man like him even love anyone?

I tugged at the corner of my mouth and turned to leave.

But Georgia spotted me.

She hooked her arm around Nicholas's neck：“What about your good little wife, then? Don't you love her? She did pine after you for ten whole years.”

His voice came out low and hoarse：“A good girl like her is just the one who picks up the pieces for a scumbag like me. You're the one I was made for.”

Georgia laughed out loud and tilted her chin toward the doorway：“Well, your leftover-picker is standing right outside.”

Nicholas stiffened and turned to look at me.

My nails dug into my palms as I forced a smile onto my face：“I came to ask when you can sign the divorce papers.”

“Whatever terms you want, just name them.”

Nicholas pushed the documents across to me.

I flipped to the last page, signed my name, and handed them back with a smile：“It's fine. It's not like you could cheat me out of anything anyway.”

Nicholas stared at the smile on the woman across from him and felt something grate behind his eyes, though he couldn't say why.

But this was exactly what he wanted, wasn't it?

Divorce. Then tie himself to Georgia, rotten as she was.

He shook his head, lowered the pen to the signature line, and his phone rang.

He murmured an apology and stood to take the call.

Whatever was said on the other end changed his face completely, and he started for the door.

I grabbed the papers and blocked his path. “Just sign it. Won't take a second.”

Nicholas's head snapped up, dark eyes locked on mine.

I kept smiling. Kept holding the papers out.

He took the pen and slashed his name across the page.

“I've already spoken with the civil affairs office. It'll be at least seven days before the divorce certificate comes through.”

Seven days.

I silently counted backward from the date of the wedding with the other man.

Enough.

Back home, I sent everything I owned ahead to Ashford.

By the time I finished, it was already dark.

I was about to sleep when the phone rang from the police station.

“Hello, is this the wife of Mr. Nicholas James? Your husband has been reported for unlawful detention and assault. We need you to come to the station.”

I didn't want to go. But the divorce wasn't final yet.

Fine. One last time.

When I arrived, Nicholas sat there stone-faced. Beside him, Georgia was smiling like a cat.

An officer approached the moment he saw me：“Ma'am, do you know this woman? She claims Mr. James held her captive, that she tried to escape and was dragged back, and that he attempted to assault her in his car.”

Before I could speak, Nicholas cut in：“She's my fiancée. There was no detention, no assault. We're together.”

As he spoke, he pulled out a yellowed slip of paper, carefully preserved.

It was a promise letter, written by Georgia the year they got together, right after the college entrance exam.

He'd kept it pristine all this time—carried it against his chest, close to his heart.

You didn't need anyone to spell out how much he loved her.

The officer's eyes went wide：“But isn't Mia Hartwell your wife?”

I pulled at my lip：“We're already divorced. The certificate just hasn't come through yet.”

In the end, the whole thing was a false alarm.

By the time we left the police station, it was deep into the night.

Nicholas went to get the car.

That left just me and Georgia.

She looked at me and suddenly laughed out loud：“Mia, all these years and you still haven't changed one bit. Still falling over yourself for Nicholas.”

I didn't say a word.

But Georgia kept going：“Want to know why Nicholas fell for me?”

She leaned in close：“Because the person he was supposed to fall for was you.”

I froze.

Georgia went on：“Back then he got so many love letters, but yours was the only one he kept. I didn't know you wrote it at first. Then one day I came back early from morning exercises and caught you slipping an envelope into his locker, the exact same purple as the one he'd saved.”

“You tossed that confession letter in the trash, and I fished it right out. The day exams ended, I scratched your name off, wrote mine over it, and went and confessed to him. He said yes. Told me those letters were fun, that he really liked them. Just like that, we were together. The playboy settled down—for me.”

Every part of me went rigid.

Georgia's smile stretched wider：

“I went through all the letters you wrote him later on. They really were something. What he liked to eat, what he liked to drink, what he did every single day, all of it recorded like a diary. Oh, and one more thing”

“In college, when you heard we'd broken up, you finally worked up the nerve to go after him. Too bad. He turned right around and forwarded your messages to me. Asked me to reply for him. Those two years of flirty texts that kept you dangling? That was all me. Watching you chase your own tail because of words I typed—you have no idea how much fun that was.”

“Later on, he and I kept splitting up and getting back together. I even got caught checking into hotels with different men, and he didn't say a word.”

“Mia, when it comes down to it, I really should thank you. You're the one who made a playboy turn around and fall in love with me.”

The cold went straight through me, head to toe, and I couldn't get a single word out.

Then Georgia's eyes went dark.

She grabbed my hand and slapped herself across the face with it.

“Ah!”

Before I could even react, a harder slap had already landed on my face.

Followed by Nicholas's ice-cold voice：“Mia, do you have a death wish?”

He didn't ask a single question. Didn't hesitate for a second. Just took Georgia's side.

I looked at the satisfaction on Georgia's face, pressed my palm to my burning cheek, and gave Nicholas one long, final look：“Nicholas, you were right. You really are garbage.”

I turned on my heel, threw my things together, and was on a train back to Ashford before the day was out.

Three days later, a wedding invitation appeared on my feed.

Nicholas and Georgia's.

My own wedding was on the same day.