Third Person's POV

"Of course not," Chelsea quickly brushed off. Still, Hadwin stood to his word and would go home by himself.

Chelsea watched Hadwin get into the car with concern. Meanwhile, Aiken stood behind her with his shoulders slumped forward, as if the weight of the world had settled squarely on him. Emotional turmoil piling over, he felt his chest tightened, making it hard to breathe.

When Chelsea finally turned back, she caught the distant look on his face—one she barely recognized.

Aiken’s pale lips quivered as he forced a bitter smile. "So, this is what you like now, huh, Chelsea?"

Her brows furrowed, confusion washing over her. "What are you talking about?" she asked, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him like she could hold the conversation together. "Hadwin’s just a junior from school. I’m just looking out for him a little more than usual. That’s all."

'This much care?' Aiken bitterly thought.

Chelsea was known for being sharp, almost cold, with most people. She set high standards for everyone, even her closest employees. Aiken had never seen her extend this kind of gentleness to anyone but him—not until now.

Slowly, he untangled himself from her embrace, giving her a faint smile. "Forget it. Let’s go inside."

Sensing something off about Aiken, Chelsea grew anxious. She grabbed his hand again, her grip firm but pleading.

"You're the only one I love, Aiken. Please believe me," she said sincerely. Then, she pulled out an exquisitely wrapped box from her bag and smilingly opened it, revealing a delicate necklace. "Look. You said it was beautiful—something you wanted."

The necklace sparkled under the light, a silver gleam catching Aiken’s eyes. But he didn’t move to take it. Instead, he sat down across from Chelsea and said softly, "Chelsea, you’ve already given me this before."

The atmosphere instantly grew heavy. Aiken’s faint smile was distant and unreachable, making Chelsea panic.

"Sorry, I’ve been so busy I forgot," she said, reaching out to hold his wrist. "Then tell me what you want. Whatever it is, as long as I can, I’ll give it to you."

"I want—" Aiken trailed off as the waiter arrived, setting down the desserts.

Once the waiter left, Chelsea looked at him again and gently asked, "What is it again?"

Aiken didn’t want to ruin the meal by rushing the conversation, so he changed the subject.

"Nothing. Let’s talk about it later."

Chelsea’s smile returned, bright and full of hope. "Alright, then it’s a surprise!"

She gracefully cut into the small cake in front of her, scooping the first bite onto her fork and holding it out to Aiken. "Here, try this. It looks pretty and tastes just as good."

Aiken accepted the bite reluctantly and the sweetness hit his tongue. He had to admit—it was good, better than most desserts he’d had.

'Is this why Chelsea and Hadwin came here?' he wondered. 'Did she feed him like this too?'

The thought left a sour taste in his mouth. He shook his head, but his pale face betrayed the turmoil inside him.

"What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?" Chelsea asked, concern filling her voice as she moved to sit closer to him. "Is the cake not good?"

He was about to answer, brushing it off, but before he could, her phone rang. Both of them glanced at the screen, where "Hadwin" flashed brightly in bold letters.

"I’ll just take this real quick," Chelsea said, letting go of Aiken’s hand. She picked up her phone and quickly walked outside.

Aiken stayed behind, clutching his stomach as a dull ache grew sharper by the second. The emotional strain was making it worse, turning the discomfort into something unbearable.

He reached for the glass of warm water by his plate, taking a slow sip, but it didn’t help. His medication was at home, far out of reach.

Dragging himself to his feet, he decided to find Chelsea and ask her to take him back. But as he reached the balcony, her voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Drink some water and lie down to rest," she said softly into the phone. Her tone was tender, gentle in a way that stung. "If you’ve got a fever, don’t try to cook."

After a pause, she spoke again. "You don’t have any medicine? I’ll grab some and bring it over."

Aiken leaned against the doorframe, every word cutting him deeper. He thought bitterly to himself, 'Maybe I should’ve passed out from the pain earlier or shouldn’t have come to this dinner in the first place.'

When Chelsea ended the call and came back inside, she found him standing there, pale and drenched in cold sweat.

Third Person's POV

"Chelsea, I’ve got acute gastroenteritis, and I don’t have my medication with me."

Aiken’s voice was calm, but the weight of his words hung heavy between them. Chelsea froze, her expression faltering just enough to betray her hesitation. That flicker was all Aiken needed to see.

He’d never resorted to manipulation before and had always prided himself on being above it. But here he was, using the very tactic he despised. And now that he had, he realized it didn’t make a difference. If anything, it only deepened the hollow ache in his chest, leaving him feeling more pathetic than before.

The quiet clinking of cutlery and muted voices from nearby diners filled the space. Gripping the hem of his shirt tightly, Aiken thought, 'It would be enough for me even if she only pitied me.'

But Chelsea’s next words broke through his fragile hope like glass. "Aiken, Hadwin has a fever. I’ll just have someone take you home, okay?"

Unaware of his pain, she crouched to meet his eyes and added, "You know how serious a high fever can be, right?" While you only have to go home, take some medicine, and you’ll feel better."

Aiken looked at Chelsea, who was pleading with him, and forced a faint smile. "Alright. But come back tonight. I’ve got something I need to talk to you about," he said, his tone barely above a whisper.

Chelsea’s face lit up with relief. She stood and kissed his forehead, her joy almost childlike. "I knew you wouldn’t make things difficult for me!"

"Mm," Aiken murmured, though he’d already gone numb. The words felt like they belonged to someone else. "But promise me—come back tonight."

"Of course!" Chelsea replied, confidence ringing in her voice.

She called for the waiter to settle the bill and quickly arranged a car to take Aiken home. As he watched her walk away, his vision blurred, and his head slumped onto the table.

"Sir! Sir!"

When Aiken opened his eyes again, he was in the hospital. The doctor asked for a family member to come sign the paperwork.

"There’s no need. I’ll handle it myself," he said.

It was already past 11 p.m., so Aiken thought Chelsea must be on her way back by now.

Despite his unsteady body, he struggled home, disheveled and weak. But as he approached the front door, he saw Hadwin dropping Chelsea off.

"Why are you only getting back now?" Aiken’s voice was sharp and cold as he stepped closer.

Chelsea rushed to his side, reaching for his hand. But the moment she touched him, she pulled back in shock. "Aiken, your hands are freezing! Go inside and warm up—quick."

"I’ll help him in," Hadwin offered politely.

But Aiken, uncharacteristically harsh, commanded coldly, "Leave. I don’t want to see you right now."

Hadwin froze, the tension hanging thick in the air. Sensing Aiken’s foul mood, Chelsea motioned for Hadwin to go. Once he was gone, she took Aiken by the arm and led him inside.

Before they could even sit, Aiken went to the drawer and pulled out a document. With a loud thud, he placed it on the table in front of Chelsea.

Chelsea’s eyes widened as she read the bold title: [Divorce Agreement.]