I had been married to Damien Rook for six years, and I had always loved him.

It wasn't until Valentine's Day that I realized he could lose control and become violent. However, the woman he defended that day wasn't me, but his childhood sweetheart.

At that moment, I felt like a complete joke. When I decided to turn and leave, Damien suddenly regretted it.

"Let me explain, there's nothing between Leona Stone and me. She's just my sister, my benefactor, so I took care of her a bit more," he said.

I pushed his hand away, my voice cold, "You owe her, but I don't. So Damien, we're done."

---

"Hey Matilda, you need to come here, Damien's in a fight with someone and there's blood everywhere."

I immediately put down what I was doing, handed the shop over to an employee, grabbed my car keys, and rushed out to find him. All the way there, I kept telling myself that everything would be fine, that Damien was strong and would handle it.

When I reached the alley, I saw Damien grappling with someone and ran over to stop him.

"Damien, let go, you're going to kill someone."

I grabbed his arm tightly, not daring to let go, because his eyes were already filled with rage. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't match Damien's strength. When he shoved me to the ground, a torrent of memories flashed through my mind. The same dark alley, blood everywhere. Despite the pain, I got up and continued pulling at him.

Leona, who was crying nearby, ran over, tears streaming down her face. "Damien, stop fighting. I don't want you to get hurt. I'm okay, they didn't touch me."

Damien stopped. He looked back at her tear-streaked face, wiped the blood from his hands on his clothes, and reached out to wipe her tears away. "Don't cry."

I stood there, feeling dazed and numb. Was this why Damien lost control? For Leona?

I looked up at them, seeing the concern in Damien's eyes and Leona's red, teary eyes, all of it piercing my heart. I spoke up, "Damien."

Damien turned and finally noticed me, ready to say something when Leona interrupted, tears falling again as she leaned against him gently.

"Damien, my leg hurts."

I looked down and saw that her skin was scraped, which looked severe against her fair skin.

Damien immediately panicked, bending down to carry her to the car. Hugo stood awkwardly to the side. Once Damien had Leona in the car, he coldly said, "Hugo, why aren't you driving?"

Hugo asked cautiously, "Mr. Rook, what about Mrs. Rook?"

Damien cut him off, his face stern. "She has her own legs, she knows her way home. Hurry up and drive. If anything happens to Leona, you can kiss your bonus goodbye for this month."

Hugo fell silent and started the car. I stood not far from them, overhearing every word they said. I let out a bitter laugh. Six years of marriage, putting up with everything for the sake of this family, and this was my reward—a husband who had fallen for someone else.

How ridiculous.

When I got home, I stood drenched at the doorway, taking off my shoes. The two of them, nestled together on the sofa, finally looked back at me. Damien glanced at his watch—12:36. He frowned and, upon seeing my disheveled state, a flicker of an unknown emotion crossed his face before it returned to its typical cold indifference.

"Why are you so late? Didn't you drive here?"

I changed out of my wet socks and looked back at him. "Ask your dear sister."

Leona saw Damien turn his head and quickly hid her gloating expression, lowering her head and crying, "I'm sorry, Matilda. I didn't intentionally refuse to give you the car keys. I was so scared at the time that I forgot."

Damien frowned at her words, looking at Leona without speaking, but sighed helplessly when he saw her tears.

I asked with sarcasm, "Was it accidental or intentional, Leona, don't you know in your heart?"

Seeing Leona's tears falling more and more, Damien turned back, his face stern, and rebuked, "Enough! Leona said she didn't do it on purpose. What are you still holding onto?"

Leona hid in Damien's arms, crying for a long time, while he soothed her gently.

At night, he sat by the bedside and got up to take my towel, wanting to dry my hair as I came out of the bathroom, but I avoided him.

Damien had never been rebuffed by anyone; I was the first.

His eyes flashed with impatience as he looked at me, "I've said many times, Leona is just my sister. Why do you always resent her?"

I sat at the vanity, seeing his impatient expression through the mirror.

It made me feel disoriented. Before Leona appeared, Damien had loved me deeply, immensely, profoundly.

He would drive an hour after work to buy me the chicken legs I loved and meticulously prepare gifts for every occasion.

Damien wasn't good at expressing himself, but he hid his love in the details.

So, whether a person loves you or not is evident.

I had seen him love me, so when he no longer did, it was equally obvious.

I blinked my sore eyes, swallowing my grievances, and finally turned to ask, "Do you love me?"

Damien was clearly stunned; he hadn't expected me to ask that. But he quickly replied, "I do."

I smiled and then said, "Since you love me, stay away from her."

Not giving him a chance to speak, I continued, "Otherwise, I will leave you, Damien."

Damien opened his mouth but didn't know what to say. In the silent space, the phone rang.

"Damien, can you come be with me? I'm scared alone."

Leona’s panicked, tearful voice came through the phone, and Damien was flustered.

He immediately calmed her, "Okay, don't be afraid. Turn on all the lights; I'm coming right now, Leona."

As Damien put on his clothes and prepared to leave, he noticed me. Hesitant, but deciding after a phone call, he chose to go to her.

Before leaving, he said, "I'll explain when I come back."

I watched his retreating figure, lost in thought for a long time, then scoffed.

Saddened? Yes, saddened. But why not make a fuss? Because it was unnecessary.

Three years ago, I had already made a fuss once. That time, Damien deleted my WhatsApp and blocked my phone when he got angry.

Unable to reach him, I was beaten and ended up in the hospital.

Since then, I couldn’t conceive.

Perhaps that memory was too painful, prompting me to forget. But it resurfaced three years later.

I turned, staring blankly at the wedding photo on the table for a long time.

"Damien, we should end this."

The next day, I started to transfer my clothing store and packed all my belongings to send to my best friend's house.

After everything was sorted, I finally had the time to sit on the sofa and rest.

At 11:08 AM, the weather remained gray with drizzling rain.

Fortunately, the house was warm, so I didn’t feel cold.

The entire day, I kept myself busy, only finding solace in distraction. Yet, the day's busyness granted me only fleeting hope. Alone in the dead of night, I lay on the cold bed, crying uncontrollably.

Damien and I had started dating in college and married shortly after graduation, living in blissful harmony ever since. He understood my quirks, and I understood his unspoken words. When did it start to change?

It was three years ago, that night. The night Leona returned from abroad, and Damien began to change.

After I cried my heart out, I got up, wiped my face, and intended to turn off the light to sleep. Then, a call from the bar came through.

"Hello, is this Mrs. Rook? Your husband is drunk at the bar, and we're about to close. Could you come to pick him up?"

After hanging up the phone, I sat on the bed, unsure whether I should go. He'd been drunk before, once a girl approached him, and he had sternly rejected her. Then, he had called me, sounding so aggrieved.

"Honey, why haven't you come to get me?"

With those words in mind, I dressed and drove to the bar. Inside, I found Damien alone, passed out in a booth. I walked over and tapped his shoulder, and he groggily mumbled, "Matilda."

I sighed and begrudgingly took Damien home. While driving, I said, "Damien, this is the last time I'll come to get you."

Damien mumbled incoherently but said nothing more. His flushed ears made him seem less distant.

At home, I placed him on the bed, intending to change his clothes when the phone rang. It was Leona. Out of spite, I declined the call, but she kept calling relentlessly. Finally, I turned off the phone.

The next morning, Damien woke up, looking puzzled. "You brought me home?"

I smiled and retorted, "Who else did you expect?"

Damien's once gentle expression turned icy again. "I don't want to argue right after I wake up."

Ignoring his irritation, I replied, "In the six years we've been married, haven't our arguments always been because of someone specific?"

Just as Damien was about to lose his temper, a call from Hugo interrupted. He sounded frantic.

"Mr. Rook, Miss Stone had a car accident!"

Damien quickly dressed and rushed out. Curious to see if it was true, I followed him to the hospital.

In the ICU, Leona lay unconscious, hooked up to a breathing machine. Damien's worry and pain were palpable, painful for me to see.

Standing by, I watched as Damien tended to Leona with utmost care, delicately using a cotton swab to moisten her parched lips. Soon, Leona woke up.

The moment she saw Damien, she started crying, a mix of fear and grievance on her face.

Damien immediately embraced her, gently stroking her hair. "Don't be afraid, I'm here."

After her tears subsided, Leona softly complained, "Damien, why didn't you answer my calls last night and turned off your phone? I was so scared, I almost thought I'd die."

Watching them, I felt like an outsider. They seemed like the real couple.

When Damien heard about the phone being turned off, he looked at me with undeniable certainty in his voice. "You turned off my phone?"

My heart couldn't help but tremble again, even though I had indeed done it. Taking a deep breath, I calmly replied, "Yes."