**Chapter 2** With a forceful shove, Alaric propelled Victoria into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him as he made his exit. She remained frozen in place, head cast down, shadows of doubt and despair clouding her thoughts until she finally dared to look up, her fingers brushing away the tear tracks glistening on her cheeks. Moments slid by in silence. Locking the bathroom door with a shaky hand, she rummaged through her pocket until her fingers closed around the crumpled hospital report. Rain-soaked and illegible, the document bore the telltale signs of its misfortune—a testimony sealed in smudges and unfathomable scribbles. Her heart sank like a stone as she realized her plans to surprise him with this news had dissolved into mere fragments of paper, ghosts of a promise now hollow. Two long years had passed since she entered his life, and in that time, she had learned one inexorable truth: Alaric never let his phone stray far from reach. The thought gnawed at her—this cold text was not his doing. Someone had taken his device, conjuring words calculated to humiliate her, reducing her to a fool awaiting an apparition outside the country club, umbrella in hand but hope fully drowned. With a humorless laugh escaping her lips, she held the report for a heartbeat longer before ripping it to shreds, letting each piece flutter to the floor like discarded dreams. Half an hour later, Victoria emerged from the bathroom, the air still dense with unspoken tension. Alaric sat on the couch, immersed in the glow of his laptop, his long legs splayed against the floor like twin sentinels guarding his focus. The sight of her drew his attention, and he gestured dismissively toward a cup of tea perched beside him. "Drink that." "Okay," she replied, the word slipping from her lips as her feet carried her closer. She lifted the teacup, but held it on her lap instead of bringing it to her mouth. A tempest of thoughts danced within her mind, compelling her to break the suffocating silence. "Alaric..." His response was curt, as if each word were an anchor weighing down his detachment. "What is it?" Victoria studied him—the strong lines of his jaw, the intensity of his gaze fixed on the screen, unwilling to yield to her. Her pale lips twitched, a silent struggle rising within her. However, impatience flickered across his face, drawing him away from the digital world to capture her gaze. When their eyes met, she felt the air thicken, pulse quickening in a way that made her heart race. Fresh from her shower, her skin bore a hint of pink, her lips regaining some warmth, but she couldn’t escape the fragility that lingered in her presence. Perhaps it was the remnants of rain still clinging to her, painting her as a delicate creature. Instantly, a flicker of desire ignited within him. Yet, oblivious to his yearning, Victoria warred against her own tumultuous emotions. She opened her mouth to speak, words ready to tumble forth, but before she could articulate her plight, he surged forward, capturing her chin in a firm grip and pressing his lips against hers with a fervor that silenced her protests. The heat of his breath coursed against her skin, igniting a fire that threatened to consume her entirely. For a fleeting moment, she surrendered, drowning amidst the sensations—until the shrill ring of his phone sliced through the atmosphere, scattering their passionate moment like leaves caught in a storm. Breaking apart, he grazed her lips with reluctance, as if unsatisfied by the interruption, his voice now hoarse with repressed desire. "Finish your tea and rest early." With that, he took hold of his phone and exited the room, the sliding glass door of the balcony closing behind him. Dazed and breathless, Victoria leaned against the couch for a moment, her heart still racing. Instead of retreating to the sanctuary of their bedroom, she wandered toward the balcony, curiosity piqued. The door stood ajar, and through the chill night air, Alaric's voice drifted toward her, soft yet commanding. "I won't leave." "What are you thinking? Be good and sleep," he added, infusing his words with an unexpected tenderness. Victoria lingered in the doorway, a smile playing on her lips, but it quickly faded, the bitter tide of reality crashing against her. So he could be gentle and amiable… What a pity none of that benevolence was directed at her heart. Turning her back to the night, she stepped into the bedroom, the emptiness echoing her own turmoil. She sank onto the bed, expression void of emotion. Long had their union been a misconceived alliance, an arrangement woven from the fraying threads of desperation that tied their families together. The Selwyns—her family—had once graced the heights of society before a merciless downfall had rendered them a target for ridicule. In the wake of their collapse, men had flocked to her like vultures, seeking to prey upon her humiliation. Alaric had swept in during what felt like the bleakest hour of her life, vanquishing those who dared to mock her, the savior draped in the guise of an unexpected knight. "Let’s get engaged," he had declared, eyes sparkling not with affection, but with strategic intent. Confusion had immobilized her, shock holding her in its grasp. "Why are you surprised?" he had inquired, brushing his thumb along her cheek, the touch both tender and chilling. "Don't worry. It's just a fake marriage. Grandma is sick, and she likes you. She'll be happy to see us engaged. I'll help you bring the Selwyns back to glory." A transaction, devoid of love. His affection was reserved for his grandmother, a pretense masking the truth. Yet, she had agreed to the engagement, caught in the web of unrequited feelings and the tantalizing hope that perhaps one day, he might see her in a different light. As childhood sweethearts turned partners in a façade, the shift weighed heavily on her heart, yet Alaric wore the mantle of their commitment like armor, unwavering in public. When Griselda's health had taken a downward turn a year later, the need for a marriage loomed larger, transforming her into Mrs. Cadogan overnight—a role everyone envied, yet no warmth graced it, not between them. Lost in thought, a bitter laughter broke free, echoing in the stillness of the room, puncturing the mask of camaraderie they had crafted. It was a union held together by convenience, yet there existed no tangible bond between them, just figures in a play of survival. “That you're still awake,” Alaric’s voice interrupted her reverie, his weight sinking beside her on the bed, his presence a profound reminder of her choices. “I have something to tell you,” he murmured, the gravity of his tone closing in. Feeling an impending dread, she steeled herself against the certainty creeping in. “Let’s get divorced,” he finally uttered, like a crisp knife slitting through the fabric of their reality. Though she'd anticipated those words, they landed like a heavy stone deep within her. Suppressing the emotional swell, she steadied herself. “When?” Calmness enveloped her, her voice unyielding, as though they were merely discussing the weather rather than the end of their marriage. His brow furrowed at her placidity, “Soon. After Grandma's surgery.” Nodding, she replied, “Okay.” Alaric studied her reaction, but the pause that followed felt laden with an unspoken expectation. “That’s it?” His surprise was palpable as he scrutinized her with those penetrating eyes. “What?” she asked, feigning innocence, the purity in her gaze momentarily stunning him. “Nothing, you heartless woman,” he chided, a strange mixture of exasperation and admiration swirling between them. In the two years they'd shared a life, she had remained an enigma to him, unfazed even now at the prospect of parting ways. Yet, he dismissed a pang of unease, lying beside her, surrendering to the comfortable silence that enveloped them as he closed his eyes. "Alaric," she called out abruptly, the sound echoing against the walls. His eyes snapped open, concern flaring within their depths. “What is it?” Swallowing hard, words that had been lodged in her throat finally spilled out, “Thank you... for the past two years.” A shadow flickered across his features, mischief intertwining with darkness as he replied, “You talk too much.” Indeed, she thought, aware that post-divorce, such opportunities for confession would wither into the ether.