Rosalie's POV

Three years after our wedding, my husband finally came home. Unfortunately, it was for another woman.

"Your bone marrow is a match for Arya. The hospital will arrange the surgery as soon as possible."

I stood beside the dining table, still wearing my apron, staring at the folder in Xavier Thornton's hand.

For a moment, I thought I'd heard him wrong.

A few days ago, his assistant had arranged a series of medical tests for me, including blood work and compatibility testing.

At the time, I had been so happy. For the first time since our wedding, it seemed Xavier finally remembered that he had a wife waiting for him at home.

When our driver, Mr. Bates, heard that I was going to the hospital on Xavier's instructions, he had grinned from ear to ear.

"Madam, Mr. Thornton finally remembers to care about your health!"

Mrs. Atkins had been even happier. She came over, wrapped her arms around me, and patted my back.

"See? I told you he'd eventually realize how much you've done for him. Perhaps things are finally going to change between you two."

I had laughed, trying to hide how excited I was.

"Do you really think so?"

"Of course! You're his wife. What husband wouldn't care about his wife's health?"

I had believed her.

I'd even wondered whether Xavier would come home to ask about my examination.

Now, all I wanted to know was why he'd arranged those tests in the first place.

"So you didn't arrange those tests because you cared about me or wanted to know how I was doing. You just wanted to find out whether I could save Arya?" I asked.

Xavier glanced at me. His face was still as handsome as I remembered, but there was no warmth in his eyes.

"The tests confirmed you're a match. That's what matters."

"What about me? Do you know how I'm doing? Do you know how many vials of blood they took from me at the hospital? Can you name even one of my test results? Do you even know my height or weight?"

"Rosalie, don't make this dramatic. Arya needs the surgery. You're the best match we've found."

I lowered my eyes.

"Then I suppose that's all you needed to know."

He didn't respond.

I looked at the food on the table.

Ever since his assistant had told me Xavier would be coming home for dinner, I'd spent the entire afternoon preparing his favorite dishes.

I'd worried about whether the chicken was cooked properly, whether the potatoes were too bland, and whether he'd like the soup. I had even worried that the smell of food might cling to my clothes and put him off, so I'd taken a shower and spent half an hour choosing what to wear.

I'd worried about everything except the one thing I should have worried about.

That he hadn't come home for me.

"Xavier, so you came home tonight just to tell me this?"

"Yes."

One word.

No explanation. No apology. Not even a question about how I'd been.

My fingers curled beneath the table.

I knew it was foolish, but I still wanted to ask him something.

"Before tonight, did you ever think about me?"

He looked impatient.

"What kind of question is that?"

"A simple one."

"I'm busy, Rosalie."

I nodded.

"Yes. Busy enough not to come home once in three years."

His expression didn't change.

"This marriage was arranged by Grandpa. You knew what it was from the beginning."

"I knew you didn't love me," I said quietly. "But I didn't know you could ignore me as if I didn't exist."

"You insisted on marrying me. I told you before the wedding that there was someone I needed to take care of for the rest of my life. What are you upset about now?"

I felt something inside me crack.

What was I upset about?

I was upset that the first thing he'd said after three years apart wasn't "How have you been?" but "You matched with Arya."

I was upset that the medical examination I'd mistaken for a sign of concern had only been arranged to find a suitable donor.

And I was upset that after giving him five years of my love, he still looked at me like a stranger who owed him nothing but cooperation.

I took a breath.

"Have you ever liked me?"

"No."

He answered without hesitation.

"Not even for one second?"

"No."

The room fell silent.

Mrs. Atkins, who had been standing near the kitchen, quietly lowered her head.

I didn't cry.

Perhaps a year ago, I would have cried until I couldn't breathe. But tonight, the pain was too sharp. It made everything painfully clear.

"Then what do you think I married you for?" I asked.

Xavier looked at me coldly.

"Do you really want me to say it?"

"Yes."

"The Thornton name. The money. The status. Grandpa's favor." His voice was steady, cruel in its certainty. "You knew I wouldn't love you, but you still married me. What else was I supposed to think?"

I stared at him.

So that was how he'd seen me all along.

A greedy girl.

A woman who had traded marriage for wealth.

Someone who had schemed her way into the Thornton family.

I remembered being seventeen and secretly falling for him, long before he ever knew how I felt.

I remembered being nineteen, standing outside my parents' house after a terrible argument, still refusing to give up on him.

I'd been a top student. I'd already secured admission to a prestigious university, and my family had been proud of me.

But I gave it all up.

I thought love was worth one desperate try.

After our wedding, I'd moved into Serene Haven and waited for my husband to come home.

That first night, I'd sent him a message.

*Someone at home is quietly waiting for you to return.*

He never replied.

After that, I stopped sending messages.

But I still waited.

I learned his favorite dishes from Mrs. Atkins. I kept the villa clean. I studied on my own and spent my days working on little design projects in my notebook.

I never spent the allowance he transferred to my account every month. I never used his name to get anything.

I thought that if he ever came back, I could tell him I hadn't married him for money.

But now, looking at him, I suddenly felt very tired.

What was the point?

He had already decided who I was.

No amount of waiting could change that.

"Xavier, I've never used your money."

He gave a faint, dismissive smile.

"You live in my house."

"Yes. Like a prisoner in a beautiful cage."

His expression darkened.

"No one forced you to stay."

I looked at him.

"Really?"

He didn't answer.

We both knew the truth.

I'd stayed because I loved him.

That was the saddest part.

I slowly stood up.

Xavier watched me.

"Where are you going?"

I didn't answer.

I walked to the cabinet in the living room and opened the drawer. Inside was a folder I'd prepared a long time ago but had never found the courage to take out.

Now my hands were steady.

I returned to the table and placed it in front of him.

Xavier glanced down.

The words on the first page were clear.

**Divorce Agreement.**

His eyes narrowed.

"What is this?"

"Read it."

His gaze turned icy.

"You want a divorce?"

"Yes."

He leaned back in his chair, looking at me as though I'd said something ridiculous.

"You?"

I met his eyes and clenched my teeth.

Xavier let out a cold laugh.

"Rosalie, you have nowhere to go."

My heart tightened, but I didn't look away.

"You gave up your old life to marry into the Thornton family. You haven't worked outside this house for three years. You barely even step out of this villa. Do you really think leaving is as easy as saying the word?"

My fingernails dug into my palms.

"You've been living here too long. You're used to this life."

"What kind of life?" I asked.

"A villa, servants, a monthly allowance, and the protection of the Thornton family." He looked at me as if he were stating the most obvious facts in the world. "You may be angry now, but anger doesn't pay bills. It doesn't give you a place to live. It doesn't give you a future."

I listened quietly.

He had never considered me his wife.

Worse, he didn't even think I was capable of living independently.

In his eyes, I was still that nineteen-year-old girl who had given up everything to marry him.

A girl who had nowhere else to go.

Something inside me finally went cold.

I picked up the divorce agreement and placed it back in front of him.

"I'll leave the papers here. You can sign them when you're ready."

"I won't sign."

"Then I'll find another way."

His lips curved faintly.

"Another way? Rosalie, don't be childish."

I looked at him.

For the first time tonight, there was no softness left in my eyes.

"I was childish when I thought waiting for you would matter."

His expression stiffened.

I turned and walked upstairs.

This time, Xavier didn't stop me.

Perhaps he thought I was throwing a tantrum. Perhaps he thought I'd cry in my room and come back downstairs later.

But I didn't.

I entered the guest room where I'd spent the past three years and pulled out a small suitcase.

I packed only what truly belonged to me.

My identification, my phone, my laptop, and a few clothes.

And my notebook.

It was an old, worn notebook filled with sketches, product ideas, and designs I'd worked on during the long days I'd spent alone in this house.

Whenever I came up with a new idea, I'd write it down.

I'd spent countless hours working on those designs, sometimes forgetting to eat or sleep because I wanted to get every detail just right.

It was one of the few things that had made me feel like I was still myself during those three years.

I slipped it carefully into my suitcase.

The black bank card Xavier had given me sat untouched in the drawer. I took it out and carried it downstairs.

Xavier was still in the dining room.

The food had gone cold.

He looked up when I came down with my suitcase.

For a moment, his eyes darkened, but the disbelief remained.

I placed the black card on the table.

"I never used this. I'm returning it."

He glanced at the card, then at my suitcase.

"You're serious? Where can you go without this card?"

"I'll figure it out."

"You'll figure it out?" He gave a low laugh. "You think the world outside is that kind?"

"I don't need it to be kind."

"Then what do you need?"

I met his eyes.

"To stop waiting for someone who never wanted to come home."

For the first time, Xavier didn't immediately respond.

I extended the suitcase handle.

Mrs. Atkins hurried forward, her eyes already red.

"Madam..."

I gave her a gentle smile.

"Thank you for taking care of me all these years."

She shook her head.

"Please don't go like this. It's already late. At least wait until tomorrow."

"If I wait until tomorrow, I might lose my courage."

Xavier stood up.

His tall figure blocked part of the light, but I didn't step back.

"If you walk out that door tonight, don't expect me to take you back."

Once, those words would have broken me.

I would have worried about losing him. I would have wondered whether I should apologize, whether I should give him another chance, whether there was still some way to make this marriage work.

But I had already given him five years.

How many more did he expect me to give?

I gave him a faint smile.

"Don't worry. I won't expect anything from you anymore."

I reached for the front door handle and pushed it open.

Then I stepped outside.