When Ariya Quekett was 20, she married Lachlan Hockcliffe, a man diagnosed with autism.

Throughout their five-year marriage, he remained distant and rigid, enforcing three strict rules—no talking, no touching, and absolutely no sharing a bed.

Then, an earthquake struck. Instinctively, she lunged forward to shield him.

But she could only watch as he carefully protected another woman, fleeing the collapsing ruins without looking back.

She woke up in the hospital, covered in wounds. Yet, her first impulse was to stagger out and search for him.

And then, she heard the woman's soft, concerned voice.

"Lach, it's just a scratch, really. It's nothing serious. But your wife... she looks seriously hurt. Don't you want to check on her?"

After a moment of silence, Lachlan's cold voice came through the door.

"I don't like her.

"Whether she lives or dies is none of my concern."

In that instant, Ariya felt completely hopeless.

So when his grandfather, Brayan Hockcliffe, rushed to the hospital, she looked at him and made a single request.

"Grandpa, please let me divorce Lachlan!"

***

Brayan froze, his wrinkled face etched with shock. "Ari, why so sudden? Did that boy treat you badly again?"

Ariya lowered her eyes and didn't answer.

Being treated badly...

If being met with relentless coldness for over a decade counted as being treated badly, then yes.

She had been orphaned as a child and raised in an orphanage.

When she was eight, Brayan brought her to the Hockcliffe family.

Brayan explained that Lachlan had been diagnosed with autism at a young age—he was quiet, withdrawn, and reluctant to interact with others. Brayan was getting older and feared that no one would care for his grandson after he was gone. So he took her in, offering her a home and a future purpose—to be Lachlan's bride.

From the time she was old enough to understand, she knew she would marry Lachlan someday.

Despite his silence and indifference—his refusal to even acknowledge her presence—she stayed by his side without complaint, learning to care for his every need.

Through his most difficult moments—whether he threw things during meltdowns, refused to eat, or rejected all physical contact—she responded with unwavering care. She held him close despite the risk, reheating his meals with endless patience, and guiding him forward with gentle persistence.

Over the years, she dedicated her entire being and her youth to him.

And she saw him make progress—still cold and withdrawn, yet capable of independent living, and eventually taking over the family company.

She thought this was how things would always be. Even if he stayed as distant and cold, she would accept it.

Until the night of the business gala.

Sabrina Glenester made her entrance in a pure white gown, ethereal as a spirit who had wandered into our world.

For the first time, Lachlan's attention was captured so completely that he couldn't look away.

He even spoke his first clear, complete sentence to Ariya—a direct command. "Give her your coat. She's cold."

At that moment, Ariya felt a sharp, piercing pain in her heart.

She silently removed her shawl, watching as he carefully wrapped it around Sabrina. His eyes held a softness, a tenderness she had never seen before.

From that day forward, his world seemed to open—but only for Sabrina.

He smiled at her, listened with patience, and scoured the globe for rare treasures just because she mentioned liking them. He abandoned important meetings when she called. And when she frowned, he showed a rare, visible anxiety.

This was everything Ariya had yearned for throughout her youth, yet never once received.

And during the earthquake, he'd protected Sabrina and fled without a moment's hesitation, leaving Ariya stranded in danger.

Even after she was injured, he'd said things like, "Whether she lives or dies is none of my concern."

She finally understood that some things simply couldn't be earned through effort.

Like love. Like Lachlan's affection.

Over a decade of care and companionship meant less to him than the mere three months since Sabrina had appeared.

Ariya took a deep breath, forcing back the tears in her eyes.

"Grandpa, I think you already know what happened today. During the earthquake, he left with Ms. Glenester, shielding her the whole way. Just now, outside the door, I heard him say it—he doesn't like me, that whether I live or die has nothing to do with him.

"You can't force someone to love you. Lachlan doesn't like me anyway. He even hates me. We'd both be better off with a divorce. It would be for the best for everyone."

Brayan's brow furrowed, and he sighed heavily. "But Ari... You've been caring for Lach all these years. If you leave, I worry he'll..."

"Grandpa," Ariya interrupted, her voice laced with weary irony. "You've seen it yourself, haven't you? How he's been with Ms. Glenester lately—isn't he in a much better place than before?

"He smiles. He shows concern for others. He actually expresses what he feels. Maybe... letting me go is what's best for him. Ms. Glenester seems far better at making him open his heart."

Brayan was stunned.

He considered the changes in his grandson recently—changes that had truly begun when Sabrina arrived.

He was silent for a long moment, then finally let out a long, weary sigh, as though he had aged a lot in that single breath. "Alright. If your mind is made up, then... I respect your decision."

***

After two days of rest in the hospital, Ariya returned to the home she had spent five years holding together.

She went straight to the bedroom and pulled a document from the back of the bedside drawer.

It was the divorce paperwork.

Lachlan's signature was already neatly penned in the bottom right corner.

When she stared at that familiar, stark handwriting, a sharp pang shot through Ariya's heart.

Throughout their five-year marriage, he had utterly loathed her.

Whether something displeased him or her concern simply irritated him, he would scowl and shove a signed divorce agreement at her, telling her to get out.

At first, whenever he handed her the agreement, she would retreat to her room and weep alone for days. Then she'd tear it to shreds right in front of him, telling herself to hold on just a little longer—that he would come around.

But as it happened more and more often, she gradually grew numb, and eventually stopped destroying the papers altogether.

The last time he threw it at her, she caught it with uncharacteristic calm, then quietly tucked it away.

She never imagined she'd actually need it one day.

She picked up the pen and signed her name in the space for the second party—each letter carefully formed, each stroke marking a final release.

Ariya Quekett.

She called her lawyer, who said that the legal process would take about a month.

"Got it," she said, her voice empty.

No sooner had she hung up than she heard movement at the entrance.

Lachlan walked in with Sabrina.

Spotting her in the living room, his expression tightened. "You're back. Good. You have 15 minutes to clear your belongings from the main bedroom. Reina is still recovering from the shock. She needs the best possible space to rest. That room has the best light and ventilation. So let her stay there."

Sabrina stood behind him in an elegant dress, her expression gentle but her eyes glinting with unmistakable triumph. "Lach, this doesn't seem appropriate..."

Lachlan didn't even look at Ariya. His gaze stayed on Sabrina, his tone surprisingly patient. "Don't mind her. She's just the caretaker Grandpa hired. If it weren't for him, she wouldn't even be living here."

Ariya heard his merciless words, but her heart had long ago grown numb from the hurt.

She didn't respond. She didn't even look their way. Instead, she turned and walked into the main bedroom, quietly gathering her things.

Sabrina followed her upstairs, offering insincere help. "Ms. Quekett, would you like a hand?"

Ariya was about to refuse when she looked up and saw Sabrina holding an old but well-kept wooden box.

It was the only keepsake her late grandmother had left her!

"Don't touch that!" Ariya's head snapped up, her voice sharp.

Sabrina jolted in surprise. Her hand jerked, sending the lid flying open and the silver hairpin spilling out. The fragile rose at its tip was instantly deformed from the impact.

Ariya's eyes widened. She rushed over, shoved Sabrina aside in one motion, and snatched up the hairpin. Her fingers were trembling violently as she cried, "Who said you could touch my things?"

Staggering back from the push, Sabrina's eyes reddened at once. She shot a wounded look toward Lachlan, who was at the door.

Lachlan stormed in and jerked Ariya backward with such force that she almost lost her balance.

"Ariya! What is wrong with you?" His eyes were cold and hard, like he was staring at an enemy. "It's just a worthless piece of junk! Was it really worth shoving someone over?"

"That was my grandmother's keepsake!" Ariya held the hairpin tightly, glaring at him with tearful eyes.

"So what? It's just an item. If it's broken, it's broken!" Lachlan's voice was sharp with impatience. "Pushing her was wrong. Apologize to Reina!"

Ariya felt crushed by how unfair it all was, her eyes filling with tears. "I did nothing wrong. Why should I apologize?"

"You refuse?" Lachlan's eyes narrowed. He turned to the door. "Guards! Take her to the yard and make her kneel. She will stay there until she admits her mistake!"

Two bodyguards came in right away with stoic expressions as they pulled Ariya to her feet.

The late-autumn yard was cold and unforgiving.

Ariya was forced to her knees on the cobblestones, and a sharp, searing pain shot through her kneecaps.

Her back was straightened as she gritted her teeth and refused to lower her head.

Dusk fell, and the temperature dropped. A cold drizzle began to fall.

The rain was soaking her hair and clothes, and the chill was biting deep into her skin.

The pain in her knees had long gone numb. Her body trembled uncontrollably, her face pale as parchment.

Still, she kept her lips sealed, not uttering a sound.

She knelt until time lost all meaning. Her consciousness slowly faded, the world darkening before her eyes, and she collapsed into the freezing rain.

When she woke, dawn had broken.

She was still lying on the soaking-wet ground, her entire body icy, every bone aching as if it were broken.

Lachlan stood under the eaves, his gaze cold and unyielding as he looked down at her. "Reina is kind-hearted. She won't hold it against you, so for this time, I will let this go too. But Ariya, keep your petty schemes to yourself. Don't push my patience any further."

Ariya tried to stand, but exhaustion and the bitter cold overwhelmed her, and she collapsed back down.

She looked up at the man she had loved all her youth, and she felt completely heartbroken.

She lowered her lashes, masking all of her emotions, and replied in a hoarse but steady voice, "I understand."

She dragged herself back to her room, her body weary and numb with cold.

There, she stared at the large wedding photo on the wall, her eyes burning with unshed tears.

In the photo, Lachlan wore a blank expression, his gaze distant and cold—exactly how he had treated her all these years.

How absurd.

There had been no wedding ceremony, no blessings—nothing but this single photo that Brayan had forced them to take.

Even during the shoot, Lachlan had been uncooperative; the smile on his face in the final image had been digitally added by the photographer.

All at once, the sheer ridiculousness of it overwhelmed her.

She fetched some tools, struggled to take down the large photo, then picked up a pair of scissors and cut it into pieces that could never be put back together.

She was leaving anyway. There would be no need to keep these hollow reminders.

She had just finished clearing away the debris when the bedroom door swung open again.

Lachlan stood in the doorway, not even bothering to step inside. His gaze fixed on her, his tone flat and emotionless yet carrying an unshakable command.

"I suddenly have a craving for pumpkin soup from the shop on the east side. Go get them."

The distance from the east side to the west side spanned nearly the entire city—a round trip would take at least three to four hours.

Lachlan never cared about such things. If he wanted something, she had to make it happen.

Once, she would have gone no matter how exhausted she was.

But now...

She had knelt all night in the rain. Her head throbbed, her body felt light and unsteady, and a feverish heat coursed through her limbs.

Seeing her hesitation, Lachlan's expression darkened.

In the end, Ariya said nothing. She silently picked up her wallet and car keys. Then, she walked out.

The round trip took nearly four hours. By the time she finally placed the still‑steaming bowl of pumpkin soup in front of Lachlan, he didn't even look at her. He simply picked up the bowl and went straight to Sabrina, who was sitting on the couch.

He picked up a spoon, scooped up a spoonful of it, and blew on it gently to cool it. Then he brought it tenderly to Sabrina's lips. "Reina, you mentioned you haven't had an appetite since you got sick and wanted something sweet to warm you. Try this."

A flush colored Sabrina's pale cheeks. She opened her mouth and ate it obediently.

So that was it. Sabrina had been the one craving them.

Standing rooted to the spot, Ariya watched the scene unfold, a suffocating tightness gripping her chest, each breath burning like fire in her lungs.

For years, he had shut himself away completely—refusing all communication, turning his back on the outside world, even needing her to coax him patiently for what felt like ages just to take a bite of food.

She had borne all his tantrums and indifference alone, tending to his daily needs and managing every detail of his life with unwavering devotion.

She had always told herself that his coldness and detachment came from his condition.

It wasn't until this moment, watching the thoughtfulness and patience he lavished on Sabrina, that the truth finally dawned on her.

He wasn't incapable of kindness. He didn't lack the ability to care for someone.

He simply loathed her. It was that simple.

A deep, dull ache tore through her heart, spreading relentlessly through her entire being.

She turned around without a word and went upstairs alone, back to the small guest room where she was staying. She was shivering violently—she must have developed a fever. She buried herself under the covers and drifted into a fitful sleep.

She had no idea how long she'd slept when the commotion downstairs jolted her awake. Faintly, she could hear Sabrina's pained whimpers and Lachlan's anxious shouts.

She struggled to get up, intending to see what was happening, but the moment she opened the door, she collided with Lachlan, his face icy and eyes blazing with fury.

He grabbed her wrist in a vice-like grip, his fingers nearly crushing her bones, his voice cold and sharp as ice. "Ariya! How dare you poison the pumpkin soup? It seems kneeling all night wasn't enough of a lesson for you!"

Poison?

Ariya froze, then her mind cleared. "I didn't do it! I brought that soup straight to you after buying it. How could I have poisoned it?"

"Who else could it have been but you? Reina has been suffering from abdominal pain ever since she ate it!" Lachlan refused to believe her, his eyes dark and terrifying. "Since you won't admit it, you'll suffer twice the pain Reina did!"

He snapped an order at the bodyguards. "Get the mangoes. Make her eat them!"

Ariya's eyes widened in terror—she was severely allergic to mangoes.

"Lachlan! You can't do this! I really didn't do it!" She stumbled backward in panic.

But the bodyguards had already pinned her down, peeled the mangoes, and forced the fruit into her mouth.

The cloyingly sweet fruit was shoved down her throat. Within moments, red rashes spread across her skin. Her throat swelled, her breathing grew labored, her chest heaved violently, and darkness crept into her vision.

Lachlan simply watched her writhing in agony, his expression cold and detached. Then, without a second glance, he lifted the still-whimpering Sabrina from the couch, strode out of the villa, and headed straight for the hospital.

With the last of her strength, Ariya dragged herself to the nightstand, fumbled with trembling hands for the spare allergy medication, and forced herself to swallow it.

As the medicine slowly took effect, she collapsed to the floor, gasping for air. Tears streamed down her face, mingling with the red rashes and sweat, leaving a sticky, messy trail.

Lachlan did not return in the days that followed.

Yet every day, Ariya saw exactly what he was doing for Sabrina—right on Instagram.

He took her to a private doctor, accompanied her to art exhibitions, and bought her limited-edition jewelry.

Soon enough, Sabrina's birthday arrived.

Knowing how much she loved painting—even though her skills were clumsy—Lachlan spared no expense to put on a solo art exhibition just for her.

Before they left, Sabrina deliberately approached Ariya. "Ms. Quekett, my art exhibition opens today—you must come! I owe it all to your care during these past few days."

Ariya pulled her hand away, her expression blank. "I'm not interested."

Sabrina instantly looked hurt.

Standing beside her, Lachlan immediately scowled, his voice sharp with impatience. "Reina is being kind enough to invite you. Why are you being difficult again? Don't ruin the mood!"

Not wanting to argue over something so pointless, Ariya followed them to the art exhibition in silence.

Inside the exhibition space, Sabrina's garishly colored, clumsily composed paintings hung on the walls, each framed elaborately.

As they passed a corner, they caught snippets of conversation from two men who appeared to be art critics.

"Mr. Hockcliffe is really throwing money around. Are paintings of this quality even worth exhibiting?"

"Just trying to impress his little mistress, obviously. Have you seen the woman with him? He dotes on her like she's the apple of his eye—much more than his wife back home."

Hearing this, Sabrina immediately lowered her head, pretending to be hurt, her eyes welling up. "Lach... Did I embarrass you? Are my paintings really that bad..."

Lachlan was quick to comfort her. "Don't listen to them. Your paintings are beautiful."

With that, he took out his phone and sent a text.

Moments later, a crowd suddenly flooded into the art gallery. They gathered around Sabrina's paintings, eagerly saying they wanted to buy them and showering the works with praises—calling them "masterpieces by a genius" and "brimming with extraordinary talent."

Sabrina finally smiled through her tears.

Ariya watched the scene coldly.

She recognized many of those "buyers" and "admirers" as employees and senior executives from the Hockcliffe Group.

It was nothing more than a farce Lachlan had staged to entertain Sabrina.

A memory suddenly surfaced—the year she first arrived at the Hockcliffe's residence. She had been seriously ill with a high fever, and all the housekeepers were away. Weak as a kitten, she crawled to Lachlan's door, begging him to get her medicine or call the private doctor.

Lachlan, only ten years old at the time, simply gave her a cold glance. There wasn't a flicker of emotion in his beautiful, empty eyes. Then, with a loud bang, he slammed the door shut.

The despair and coldness of that moment were still vivid in her memory.

It turned out he wasn't heartless—his heart simply never beat for her.

Just then, a shrill fire alarm blared through the art gallery. Thick smoke billowed out immediately after.

"Fire!" someone screamed.

Chaos erupted instantly. Panicked people surged toward the exits.

Sabrina went pale with fright, screamed, and threw herself into Lachlan's arms.

Lachlan immediately shielded her, using his body to protect her from the surging crowd, and hurried toward the emergency exit.

In his haste, his elbow slammed hard into Ariya, who was just trying to steady herself.

Ariya was caught off guard and crashed straight to the floor.

Before she could crawl to her feet, a grinding crack of splintering wood echoed overhead—a decorative beam, charred by the flames, crashing down with a deafening roar.

The heavy timber slammed onto her legs, and a searing pain washed over her instantly.

As her consciousness faded, she heard Sabrina, who had already made it to safety, look back and ask, "Lach, it looks like Ms. Quekett fell... Should we..."

Then Lachlan's cold, unfeeling voice cut through the chaos, ringing clearly in her fading ears one last time.

"No need. I've said it before—her life or death means nothing to me."

When Ariya opened her eyes again, she found herself in the hospital.

Sabrina was sitting by her bed, leisurely peeling an apple.

Seeing her wake up, Sabrina immediately put down the apple, her face contorting into feigned concern and guilt. "Ms. Quekett, you're awake! How are you feeling? It's all my fault... The situation was so chaotic back then. Lach was only trying to protect me; he just didn't have time to check on you in the heat of the moment. Please don't blame him, okay?"

Ariya closed her eyes. "It's just the two of us here. Why are you still putting on this act?

"If I'm not mistaken, you deliberately broke the keepsake my grandmother left me.

"You staged the whole pumpkin soup incident yourself.

"And you even paid someone to set the fire at the gallery, didn't you?"

A heavy silence filled the hospital room.

After a few seconds, the delicate, pitiful expression on Sabrina's face faded, replaced by sneering contempt as her lies were exposed.

She gave a soft chuckle. "So you're not as dumb as you look.

"Yes, I did all of it. I did it to show you that to Lach, you mean nothing.

"Lach only has eyes for me now. You know how much he hates you. Why do you keep holding onto the title of Mrs. Hockcliffe? Why won't you step aside? Don't you think you're pathetic? Get a divorce. It'll be better for everyone."

Ariya opened her eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling, her voice calm and emotionless. "I understand."

What she meant was that she was leaving soon—the divorce papers were already being processed.

But Sabrina clearly took it as a cold refusal to let go.

Sabrina's face darkened instantly. She sprang to her feet, her voice turning sharp and cutting. "I've tried to be nice, but you're determined to make this difficult, aren't you? Then don't blame me if things get ugly!"

With that, she let out a cold snort as she grabbed her bag and walked out of the room in her heels, looking every bit as proud as ever.

Ariya didn't have the strength to go after her—nor did she want to explain. She simply closed her eyes again.

It didn't matter what tricks Sabrina played.

Because the day of her departure was drawing closer.

In the days that followed, neither Lachlan nor Sabrina appeared again.

Ariya was more than happy for the peace and quiet, focusing on her recovery.

The day Ariya left the hospital, the Hockcliffe Group was holding a major charity gala, and Lachlan had to go with a guest.

Reluctant as she was, Ariya knew this was one of the last obligations she had to fulfill as "Mrs. Hockcliffe."

She changed into an elegant evening gown and applied light makeup to cover her pale complexion.

But when she approached the car, she saw Sabrina already sitting in the back seat, leaning affectionately against Lachlan's shoulder and chatting away.

When Sabrina saw Ariya, she immediately sat up straight. "Ms. Quekett, don't get me wrong. Lach said the gala would be boring, so he asked me to come along to have some fun and unwind."

Lachlan didn't even look up, his tone cold and impatient. "Why explain anything to her? Since when do I need her permission to bring whoever I want? Who does she think she is?"

The words pierced Ariya's heart like an icicle.

Though she had long since grown numb, a faint twinge of pain still lingered.

She silently opened the front passenger door, slid into the seat, and said nothing for the entire ride.

When they arrived at the auction venue, it was a glittering affair—elegant guests mingling, champagne flutes clinking, conversations buzzing.

Lachlan stayed by Sabrina's side the entire time, fetching her drinks, introducing her to celebrities, and attending to her every need.

As for Ariya, he didn't spare her a single glance.

To anyone who didn't know the truth, it would have seemed unquestionable that Sabrina was his wife.

When the auction began, Lachlan leaned down and asked Sabrina softly about each item, "Do you like it?"

If Sabrina so much as glanced at an item a moment longer or gave the faintest nod, Lachlan would raise his paddle without hesitation, outbidding everyone with staggering sums, then turn to her and say, "It's yours."

Jewelry, masterpieces, antiques... One priceless gift after another was presented to Sabrina, piling up like treasure.

An elder who often dealt with the Hockcliffe family saw the display and leaned over to ask Lachlan quietly, "Lach, you're spending so freely on Ms. Glenester. Won't Ari be upset?"

Lachlan swirled the wine in his glass, not even looking toward Ariya, his tone icy. "What right does she have to be upset? It's my money, and who I give it to is my business. It has nothing to do with her."

Hearing this, Sabrina shot Ariya a triumphant look, then quickly feigned reasonableness and tugged at Lachlan's sleeve. "Lach, all this is so expensive... Why don't we give some of it to Ms. Quekett?"

Only then did Lachlan spare Ariya a brief, detached glance—a look that held both indifference and a warning—before turning back to Sabrina, his voice soft and reassuring. "Everything here is yours. Don't worry. What I give you, no one can take away."

His blatant favoritism only stirred more whispering around them.

"Well, they've been married for years, and I've never seen Mr. Hockcliffe pamper his wife like this."

"Pamper? Look how he treats her. This Mrs. Hockcliffe's days are numbered, mark my words."

"They were never cut from the same cloth. Forcing a marriage like this? It's nothing but a joke."

"She slaved away for him all these years and ended up with nothing. What a sorry sight..."

There was a time when whispers like these would have left Ariya overwhelmed with shame and heartache.

But now, hearing them, her heart remained calm—as if they were talking about a stranger.

She felt only a deep weariness. Leaning closer, she whispered to Lachlan beside her, "I'm going to the restroom."

Then she stood and left the noisy room.

She had just reached the corner of the corridor when Sabrina caught up with her.

"Ms. Quekett!" Sabrina blocked her path, wearing an expression of feigned sincerity. "Can we talk? Lach and I really love each other. I know it's wrong, but I can't help how I feel... Please, will you give us your blessing?"

Ariya rubbed her temples wearily. "Whether you two are really in love is none of my concern. And I don't have time to watch this performance."

She tried to step past, but Sabrina suddenly snapped. With a thud, she dropped to her knees, grabbed the hem of Ariya's dress, and tears streamed down her face instantly. She sobbed pitifully, her voice loud enough to draw everyone's attention.

"Ms. Quekett, it's all my fault! I fell for Lach first! Blame me for everything! Hit me, yell at me—do whatever you want! Just please don't make me leave Lach! I can't live without him!"

Ariya was too stunned by the outburst to react. Then a powerful force slammed into her from the side, shoving her violently away.

Bang!

Her temple slammed against the cold wall. A searing pain shot through her, and warm blood instantly began to stream down.

She clutched her temple, her vision dimming. Lachlan's furious roar filled her ears. "Ariya! What have you done to Reina now?"

She looked up to see Lachlan carefully helping the kneeling Sabrina to her feet, his face etched with tender concern—as if she were a fragile treasure.

But when he turned to her, his eyes held nothing but loathing and rage—as if he were staring at something filthy.

"I just stepped away for a moment, and you immediately start tormenting her? Ariya, how could you be so cruel?" Lachlan's voice was ice‑cold, each word sharp with sarcasm and accusation. "I'm warning you. If I ever catch you bullying Reina again, I won't forgive you!"

With that, he didn't even glance at her bleeding temple. He wrapped an arm around the still‑sniffling Sabrina and strode away without looking back.

Ariya gritted her teeth against the throbbing pain in her temple, watching them walk away with their arms around each other, unable to say a word.

She lifted her gaze and met Sabrina's eyes, sharp with triumphant provocation.

A wave of absurdity and irony washed over her. She tried to smile, but the movement jarred her wound, leaving her with nothing but emptiness.

Actually, Sabrina never needed to go to such lengths.

Because... she really was leaving soon.

When that time came, whoever he chose would have nothing to do with her ever again.

***

A few more days passed quietly, and before she realized it, it was the fifth anniversary of her marriage to Lachlan.

Every anniversary in the past had been treated like any other day, so Ariya expected this one to be no different.

She got ready to go out as usual, only to find Lachlan—who rarely dressed up—standing at the door in a meticulously tailored haute couture suit, his hair perfectly styled, as if waiting for someone.

For a moment, her heart skipped a beat, and a wild, absurd hope surged within her.

Was he waiting for her?

But the thought lasted only a second before reality dashed it.

Dressed like a princess, Sabrina came cheerfully down the stairs and slipped her arm through Lachlan's. She said, "Lach, I'm ready! Let's go!"

The hard lines of Lachlan's face softened the instant he saw her, and he answered with a quiet "Hmm."

Ariya gave a wry, self‑mocking smile, chiding herself for entertaining such unrealistic fantasies.

Noticing Ariya standing nearby, Sabrina's eyes lit up with a sly gleam. She smiled and invited, "Ms. Quekett, Lach is taking me to the new theme park today. Why don't you join us?"

Lachlan frowned immediately. "Why bring her? I don't want her there."

Sabrina pouted, clinging to his arm coquettishly. "It's more fun with more people! Besides, I'm not holding a grudge about what happened last time. Lach, you really should learn to be more sociable!"

Lachlan fell silent for a moment and, surprisingly, didn't object further.

A fresh pang twisted Ariya's heart once again.

It seemed he had been tamed to the point of giving in to anything Sabrina asked without hesitation.

Ariya had no intention of going anyway, but she followed silently, unwilling to stir up more trouble by refusing.

At the amusement park, Sabrina was bursting with excitement, dragging Lachlan from one ride to another.

His attention stayed fixed on Sabrina the whole time as he accompanied her on the carousel, the roller coaster—all the rides he'd once dismissed as too loud and unbearable.

When they passed the haunted house, Sabrina's eyes lit up with eager interest.

Ariya couldn't help but warn him. "Lachlan, places like this are too overwhelming for you..."

One of his autism symptoms was that he easily lost emotional control in overstimulating, chaotic environments.

But seeing Sabrina's disappointed look, Lachlan's expression darkened instantly. He shot Ariya a frosty glare. "It is none of your business."

With that, he bought tickets for both of them and stepped into the haunted house.

Ariya had no choice but to follow them inside.

The haunted house was dimly lit, filled with eerie sound effects, and "ghosts" leapt out unexpectedly at every turn.

Sabrina screamed repeatedly, clinging desperately to Lachlan's chest. Though his body tensed slightly, he stayed close beside her, shielding her the entire time.

Ariya walked silently behind them alone, as if separated from the embracing couple by an entire world.

As they rounded a corner, a staff member dressed as a zombie lunged at Sabrina from behind!

"Ah!"

Sabrina shrieked, stumbling backward in panic. Her elbow slammed hard into Ariya's eye.

Caught completely off guard, Ariya staggered back. Her waist smashed against a nearby decorative rockery with sharp, jagged edges.

A searing agony shot through her. She gasped, doubling over as she felt warm blood soak through her dress.

Sabrina seemed to finally realize what had happened and asked tearfully, "Ms. Quekett? What's wrong? Are you all right?"

Ariya was in too much pain to speak.

When she didn't reply, Sabrina broke into quiet sobs. "I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to... I was just so scared... Lach, I didn't mean it..."

Lachlan pulled her into his arms and murmured softly, "I know, I know."

Then he turned to Ariya, who was doubled over and pale, his voice edged with irritation. "Reina already apologized. What more do you want?"

Ariya stared at him, his unfairness cutting deeper than the pain in her side.

Gritting her teeth, she slowly straightened up and shook her head, her voice weak and hoarse. "It's nothing. I'm fine."

Once outside the haunted house, Lachlan and Sabrina acted as though she weren't there, heading off together to the next ride.

Ariya's steps slowed from the pain in her side, and she soon fell far behind.

As their figures receded beneath the setting sun, Ariya saw the tenderness in Lachlan's eyes when he listened to Sabrina—a tenderness she had never known—and exhaustion settled deep in her chest.

She stopped, pulled out her phone, and texted Lachlan. "I'm not feeling well. I'll head back first."

Alone, she turned and began the slow, painful walk to the exit, determined to find a pharmacy and treat the bruise already darkening her waist.

Day after day passed until the divorce proceedings were finally settled.

At the courthouse, Ariya collected the divorce certificate.

She looked at the words marking the end of her marriage, and a sense of calm washed over her.

She returned to the villa and began the final packing of her belongings.

Sorting through drawers and closets, she was struck by a sudden, hollow realization. After all these years, almost nothing in the house was truly hers.

The wardrobe was filled with plain, practical clothes that were convenient to care for him. Her dressing table held no expensive jewelry or cosmetics, just first-aid kits, sticky notes scribbled with his preferences and warnings, specialized tools for his episodes...

Every object told the same story—a life built entirely around his needs.

As she handled each item, memories came flooding back.

She remembered his repulsion when she first arrived. The elation she'd felt the first time he let her approach. The constant anxiety whenever his condition worsened. And the growing coldness—the hurt—after Sabrina appeared...

Finally, she slipped off her wedding ring from her ring finger—the one he had never cared about.

Its cold weight felt like the final remnant of warmth from five years of marriage.

She carefully placed the divorce certificate, the ring, the notes scribbled with precautions—everything that had ever tied her to him—into a box.

Cradling it in her arms, she walked to Lachlan's study.

She gently pushed the door open and had just set the box on the corner of his desk when a cold, furious voice cut through the silence behind her. "Who let you in? I told you never to come in here! Get out!"

Ariya turned to find Lachlan at the door—he'd returned without her noticing. His face was dark, twisted in a scowl.

She tried to explain. "I was just here to drop something off. I'll go as soon as I do..."

"Everything you touch disgusts me!" Lachlan cut her off, not even listening. Disgust filled his eyes as he jabbed a finger toward the door. "Get out. Now. And never come in here again! Do you hear me?"

Watching his agitation and revulsion, the last faint stirring of emotion in Ariya's heart went still.

She lowered her head and whispered, "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Never again would she set foot here. Never again would she disturb him.

She turned and slipped out of the study.

The moment she stepped out, a housekeeper rushed over, voice panicked. "Mr. Hockcliffe, it's an emergency! Ms. Glenester has fallen in the garden! She's twisted her ankle, and she's in terrible pain!"

Lachlan's expression changed instantly. He had no time for anything else—not even a glance at Ariya. He simply threw a hurried order at the housekeeper. "Clean and disinfect this study from top to bottom," then he strode urgently toward the garden, disappearing from view.

Ariya stood in the empty hallway, watching him rush over to another woman without hesitation. She watched him lift her into his arms, get into the car, and drive away until the vehicle vanished from sight.

She stood there for a long time.

She went back to the guest room, and she lifted the small, already‑packed suitcase. She let her gaze linger one last time on the place she had lived for over a decade—a place that had never been home—then turned and walked out, without any hesitation.

The sun shone brightly outside.