Chapter 1
In three years of marriage, Josephine Sinclair had caught Peter Garrison cheating for the ninety-ninth time.
After an overnight flight, she stood there pale and exhausted, staring at the clothes strewn across the floor.
The thick stench of sweat and desire clung to the air, turning her stomach.
Peter was shirtless, leaning back against the headboard, the woman in his arms wearing Josephine's silk nightgown.
His hand was roaming freely over the woman's body.
There was a growing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
He arched a brow, flashing a mocking grin at the woman who had just walked in on them.
"Well? Doesn't she look better in it than you ever did?
"Josephine, if I'm counting right, this makes ninety-nine. And you're still refusing to sign the divorce papers?"
She pressed a hand to her stomach, her movements mechanical.
For the first time, she didn't explode at his cruelty.
"Put some clothes on. We need to talk."
Peter snorted and glanced at her retreating back.
"Talk? What is there left for us to talk about?"
Josephine stopped but didn't turn around.
"About the divorce."
Peter looked stunned for a second, his lips parting slightly.
"That's great! Mr. Garrison, you're about to get what you want!"
She sat down in the study and waited less than five minutes before Peter pushed the door open, fully dressed.
Clearly, he couldn't wait to get this over with.
"You're not messing with me, right?"
That sneer in his eyes—Josephine saw it loud and clear.
She didn't bother responding. Instead, she slid the divorce papers across the desk toward him.
"Take a look. If everything looks fine, go ahead and sign."
Peter picked up the document and browsed, slightly furrowed, clearly suspicious. He didn't believe for a second that Josephine would actually want a divorce.
The Sinclair family had long since lost its former glory.
He was sure she'd cling to him to the bitter end, draining him of every last drop.
But once he read through the agreement, he froze.
Josephine wasn't asking for anything—not money, not property. She was even giving up their house.
He frowned. "You serious? You're not planning to sign this and then show up at the family estate making a scene, are you?"
Josephine remained calm from start to finish.
"I'm serious. And no, I won't cause any trouble. Don't worry."
Without another word, Peter grabbed a pen and quickly signed his name at the bottom.
As the last stroke landed, the corner of his lips lifted slightly, like a weight had finally been lifted.
"Well, if the papers are signed, let's go to the courthouse l and make it official. There's a thirty-day cooling-off period—I don't want to waste a single extra day with you."
"Right now?"
Josephine frowned.
"Heh, I knew it. You're backing out, aren't you?"
Pain twisted in her stomach, but she could not help looking at Peter's mocking expression.
"Let's go."
She didn't stop for a second. Together, they filed the paperwork.
When the staff handed them a form, he explained, "If either of you changes your mind within these 30 days—"
"Why would I regret this?" Peter scoffed, tossing the pen onto the desk with a broader grin.
Josephine came out late but saw that Peter's car hadn't left yet.
He was parked by the roadside, honking the horn at her.
The window was halfway down. He took off his sunglasses, looking relaxed as he smirked at her.
"Josephine, you know what they say—one night as a couple, a hundred nights of kindness. We did share a bed, after all. No need to worry about finding someone new. That guy earlier seemed pretty into you."
He held out a business card, clearly hoping to humiliate her.
What he didn't expect was for Josephine to reach out and take it without hesitation.
"Thanks. I'll think about it."
With that, she turned and walked away without a second glance.
Leaving Peter frozen in place.
Peter didn't know.
Those 30 days?
They weren't just the countdown to the end of their marriage.
They were also the countdown to Josephine's death.
Chapter 2
Josephine wandered aimlessly through the streets.
In her hand was the death sentence the doctor had just handed her.
"So you're saying I've got about 30 days left?"
"I'm sorry, Ms. Sinclair."
That gut-punch feeling—it wasn't the first time Josephine had experienced it.
The Sinclair family was crumbling, and the weight of it all had landed squarely on her shoulders.
Back then, she'd felt completely helpless.
She'd called Peter.
She thought that even if they just bickered or argued, maybe it would make her feel less alone.
But he didn't answer. Not once.
But Peter hung up on all her calls to him, and when she pushed him too much, he simply turned off his phone to avoid her.
The next time she saw him, he was lying naked in their bed with a young model in his arms.
Peter never saw how lost and broken she was.
All he saw was a face he couldn't stand.
He deliberately kissed the young model right before her, the sharp glint at the corner of his lips stabbing at Josephine's eyes.
"Well? You ready for that divorce now?"
Josephine forced herself to stay calm and fled the room.
In Los Angeles, just about everyone knew she and Peter had been at each other's throats since they were kids. Whenever they saw each other, they'd fight.
And just about everyone assumed that Josephine hated Peter just as much as he hated her.
She touched the ring on her finger—it was one Peter had reluctantly given her after the wedding.
When he handed it to her, he'd tossed the ring box at her face.
At first, she'd buried her feelings deep, never letting them show.
Until Peter forces her to fulfill her duties as a wife.
In the middle of one of those moments, he noticed the ring still on her hand.
He laughed right then and there.
"Josephine, don't tell me the reason you won't sign the divorce papers is because you actually like me.
"If that's the case, you'd better get over it. I'm not only never going to like you—I can't stand the sight of you."
Peter's hatred didn't come from nowhere.
He hated her because their families had arranged their marriage from the start. And his first love? She'd been forced to move overseas because of it.
That night, Josephine stared at the ceiling until morning.
Her mother had passed away when she was young. No one had ever told her how to hold on to someone she loved. All the younger versions of her could do was throw barbed words and petty fights to get Peter's attention. But after that?
Josephine blinked against the dryness in her eyes.
Her phone kept buzzing, breaking her thoughts.
She opened the chat and saw Peter flooding the group with digital cash gifts.
"What's the occasion, huh? What's got you so excited, Mr. Garrison?"
Peter didn't reply. He just dropped a photo in the chat. It was the divorce agreement, signed during the cooling-off period.
Just that one picture dropped like a bomb.
Suddenly, all the silent lurkers in the group chat exploded.
"They really divorced? Josephine actually agreed?!"
"Finally! This is the best news ever. Peter, you're finally free!"
"We gotta celebrate! Didn't you say seeing Josephine's face daily made you so miserable you couldn't even sleep? Now you're free to date ten or twenty girls at once, and no one can say a thing!"
"Am I the only one who finds this weird? Peter slept with all kinds of models and influencers, and Josephine put up with all of it. Why give in now? What if she's just messing with you? What if she doesn't show up at the end and you still can't get a divorce?"
The group went silent after that message.
Then Josephine's phone started ringing.
"Josephine, you're not screwing with me, are you? You're actually gonna follow through after the cooling-off period?"
Her pale face twisted into a faint smile.
She spoke softly into the phone.
"Oh, I'm absolutely screwing with you.
"Peter, what are you gonna do about it?"
Chapter 3
Heavy breathing came through the phone.
Josephine figured, that if she were standing in front of Peter right now, she probably wouldn't even make it to the end of the month—he'd strangle her on the spot.
Before he could start cursing her out, she let out a soft laugh.
"Peter, I'm not messing with you this time, but I do have one condition."
Peter didn't answer.
She didn't care. She kept talking anyway.
"I want you to do ten things with me. Just ten. Once we're done, I'll sign the divorce papers without a word. I swear—after that, I'll disappear from your life completely."
That offer was tempting. Very tempting.
Peter frowned.
"Ten's too many. Five."
Josephine gave a quiet chuckle. "Fine."
The first thing she did was ask him to attend a charity gala with her.
She dressed to the nines, and when Peter arrived to pick her up, his fingers flew over his phone screen. He didn't even look up to glance at her.
Josephine didn't mind. She knew better than to expect sweet talk from him.
But he frowned when he got in the car and finally looked at her.
"You lost weight? Your face looks sickly. You look terrible."
Her fingers twitched slightly, but she stared straight ahead and said nothing.
When they got out of the car, Peter suddenly grabbed her hand.
She froze for a second, and he scoffed.
"What's the matter? It's not like we've never held hands or done even more intimate things. Why pretend to be so shy now?"
His burning palm wrapped around her cold fingers.
It wasn't the first time he'd held her hand—but it was the first time he'd ever done it alone.
People around them noticed. The strange harmony between them caught everyone off guard. Eyes widened.
The auction began. Josephine spotted something she liked.
She raised her paddle instinctively, but someone else beat her to it.
It was a painting—a rare final work by a now-deceased foreign artist. Several bidders liked it and started raising their offers.
In the end, it was Peter who won with the highest bid.
Warmth rushed through her chest.
"Wa—"
"Send it to the Heath family in Atlanta."
Her outstretched hand froze in midair.
So the painting wasn't for her.
A wave of bitterness surged inside her, threatening to drown her.
She stood up suddenly and walked toward the exit.
Peter frowned, got up, and grabbed her arm.
"Where do you think you're going? It's not over yet."
She tried to pull free, but his grip was too strong.
He was starting to get annoyed. "You're the one who dragged me here. Now what? Throwing a tantrum? You're seriously messed up."
That last line—messed up—stabbed her straight in the heart.
"You're right. I am messed up."
She yanked her arm free and stormed out without looking back.
For an entire week, Josephine didn't contact him.
She moved out of their home. At first, Peter didn't care.
But the thought of the remaining four tasks gnawed at him. Made him restless.
For example, if he didn't get them over with soon, Josephine would cling to him all over again.
Unable to stand the uncertainty, he called her.
When the phone rang, Josephine had just finished a round of radiation therapy.
Her condition was deteriorating quickly. Her bones ached constantly.
"There are still four things left, Josephine. Don't think you can weasel out of them."
She was silent for a moment.
"I want to go to Tibet."
Peter frowned. "Now?"
"Mm. Right now."
He thought she was insane.
But he went along with it, for the sake of the divorce, for the sake of finally shaking her off.
He booked the tickets to Tibet immediately.
Josephine wrapped herself up from head to toe. By the time she arrived, Peter had been waiting impatiently.
"What the hell? I offered to pick you up, but you refused. Then you show up late? What were you doing?"
She ignored his complaints and handed him her suitcase.
"Stop whining."
Peter snorted but took the luggage from her hands without protest.
He didn't even realize how natural it had become.
Just before boarding, his phone rang.
Josephine stood at the gate, looking at him from across the hall.
He gripped the phone tighter, his whole body tense.
"Sorry, Josephine.
"I can't go to Tibet with you."
Chapter 4
As soon as he finished speaking, Peter turned and bolted out of the airport.
Josephine numbly took out her phone.
Sure enough, the top post on her social feed was from Camila Heath.
She didn't say a word—just posted a photo of the painting.
And Peter, without the slightest hesitation, had broken his promise and walked away.
"Miss, boarding ends soon."
Snapped out of her daze by the staff's reminder, Josephine didn't look back. She turned and walked in the opposite direction.
After landing in Tibet, she received a text from Peter.
"I'll be two days late. Go ahead and have fun first."
She was a little surprised. Late? Not canceling?
So, he was actually still planning to come, just in a hurry to finish their 'tasks' and finally get rid of her.
Josephine didn't wait. She hired a local guide and joined a tour group.
But her body couldn't keep up. Most of the time, she was alone in her room, resting.
By the time Peter arrived, she had packed and was preparing to leave.
"You dragged me all the way out here, had me drop everything just to mess with me?" he snapped, kicking her suitcase over in frustration.
Clothes spilled out across the floor. Josephine stared at the mess, then let out a bitter laugh.
"Mess with you? Isn't Camila staying in the room next door?"
Peter stiffened. He faltered.
"She's just here to paint. Stop making everything about her."
Josephine's fingers curled slightly. She didn't reply. She simply bent down to gather her clothes.
"Am I interrupting something?"
Camila appeared in the doorway.
The anger on Peter's face vanished instantly.
It was replaced with concern. With urgency.
"You said you weren't feeling well. Why'd you get up?"
"I can't just lie around all day. And I heard your voices—it sounded a little loud, so I thought I'd come to see."
At her words, Peter finally glanced at Josephine again.
"It's nothing. Are you hungry? I'll get you something to eat."
Camila gave an embarrassed nod.
Just as Peter was about to leave the room, he suddenly paused and turned back.
He looked annoyed.
"What about you? You want anything?"
Josephine was sweating from the effort of packing. Even that small task had left her drained.
She heard the shift in his tone, the change in warmth between speaking to her and to Camila.
Her voice was flat. "No."
Peter scowled at her refusal.
"Then starve for all I care. You look like a damn ghost."
The door slammed shut behind him, leaving only Josephine and Camila in the room.
This wasn't the first time Josephine had met her.
The Heath family had risen quickly in Atlanta as nouveau riche, and naturally, the Garrison family looked down on them.
Camila had always been proud and resented how the Garrison family judged her.
So she left in a huff, trying to make something of herself abroad.
But now she'd slinked back home, and the first thing she did was reconnect with her old flame.
To Josephine, watching it all from the outside, it was laughable.
With Peter gone, Camila didn't even bother keeping up the act.
"Ms. Sinclair. Long time no see."
She kicked over the suitcase Josephine had just spent all that time packing.
Watching her neatly folded clothes scatter across the floor, something in Josephine snapped.
She knew Camila was doing it on purpose.
And she fell for it anyway.
Without hesitation, her hand flew out and slapped Camila hard across the face.
Peter walked in right then. He saw Camila's red cheeks and her teary eyes.
The bowl of spaghetti in his hand—meant for Josephine—crashed to the floor.
He didn't ask what happened. He stormed across the room and slapped Josephine hard across the face.
"Josephine, that's enough!"
Camila sobbed and turned to him.
"It's my fault. I accidentally knocked over Ms. Sinclair's suitcase. I know I'm not welcome here. I'll leave."
She rushed out.
Peter immediately turned to follow.
But Josephine's voice stopped him cold.
"Peter!
"The third thing—I want you to stay."
Chapter 5
Peter clenched his fists, glaring at Josephine with fury in his eyes.
She already knew what he was about to say.
Panting heavily, Josephine's strength seemed to drain all at once.
She sank to the floor, rubbing the ear that was still ringing from his slap.
Sitting among the pile of clothes, she began folding them again.
"Aren't you just waiting to divorce me, so you can marry Camila?
"We're almost there. After this, just two things left. What, are you planning to throw it all away now? Honestly, the first two tasks you completed were pathetic. Don't tell me you're getting cold feet about divorcing me?"
She looked up at him as she spoke, her gaze locking onto his.
His ink-dark eyes were laced with scorn.
"Josephine, people should know their place. Too bad you don't.
"I'll do this third thing, but you better remember the Sinclair family can't protect you anymore. Touch Camila again, and I'll make sure nothing remains of you to bury."
Josephine lowered her head and gave a bitter smile.
Talk tough? She could, too.
Back when they used to argue, Peter was never her match.
And now, she would soon give him what he wanted without lifting a finger.
Peter called Camila, coaxing her gently until she forgave him.
Then, under his arrangement, she returned to the country ahead of schedule.
Watching how delicately he protected her, Josephine felt like she had swallowed poison.
So he did know how to love someone.
Just not her.
When Peter came back, Josephine still hadn't finished packing.
He lost his patience, yanked her to her feet, and bent down to do it himself.
"Useless. It's just a few damn things. You've been at it forever and still not done. Anyone would think you were dying, can't even handle this."
Josephine suddenly felt amused by his rant and decided to toy with him.
"You're right. I am dying. So what? If I die, will you regret treating me like this?"
Peter froze for a second. When he looked up again, his face was full of mockery.
"Regret? Don't flatter yourself. If you died, I'd throw a three-day party, firecrackers and all, invite all of Los Angeles to celebrate."
Josephine laughed until her eyes teared up, clutching her abdomen from the pain.
"Peter, you've got such a sharp tongue. After everything, we did sleep together, didn't we?"
She didn't stick around.
She could tell her body had reached its limit.
After returning to Los Angeles, she was bedridden for another week.
Each radiation session made her hair fall out noticeably faster.
The day Peter called to rush her about the last two tasks, she locked herself in the bathroom and cried all afternoon.
Once the tears dried, she pulled herself together and went to the mall to buy a wig.
"You cut your hair?"
She didn't answer his question. Instead, she walked straight to his car.
"Let's go."
Peter frowned and instinctively reached out to touch her wig, but she quickly dodged him.
"We're on a schedule. Are we going or not?"
He climbed into the car. "Just so you know, the cooling-off period ends in less than seven days. You'd better hurry and figure out the last two things."
Josephine didn't respond. Her eyes remained fixed on the window outside.
She used to be too busy arguing with Peter, too busy trying to talk to him, and she ignored the beauty of Los Angeles all around her.
She thought they could share the same view if she could stand on the same level as him.
But the truth is that to someone who doesn't love you, it doesn't matter if you're standing right beside them; they'll still look right past you.
And for the one he loves, he'll lower his proud head without hesitation.
The fourth thing Josephine asked for was simple, she wanted Peter to go with her to an amusement park.
"How childish," he scoffed, giving her a disdainful look.
Chapter 6
Josephine lowered her lashes. She had seen Peter take Camila to the amusement park before, watching him patiently pose for pictures with her repeatedly, never once showing annoyance.
This wasn't about comparing herself to Camila.
She just had a childhood wish to one day go to an amusement park with Peter.
This fourth request was her way of fulfilling a dream for the little girl she used to be.
Although Peter followed her around physically, his mind was clearly somewhere else.
His eyes never left his phone. Josephine had to call him four or five times before he finally looked up to take a photo of her.
As night fell and the lights began to flicker on, Peter urged her to leave thrice, but she ignored him each time.
Until the lights of the Ferris wheel glowed in the distance.
She pointed at it with hopeful eyes.
"Just one last ride, then we can go."
Peter paused, stunned by the light in her expression.
After a long silence, he pressed his lips together and said coldly, "Josephine, even if we reach the top of that Ferris wheel, I still won't fall in love with you."
Seconds ticked by in silence.
Josephine blinked fast, trying to hide the sting in her eyes. Then she turned her head away.
"Geez, who said anything about that? I've just never been on one before, that's all."
Suddenly, his phone rang, shattering the moment.
Camila was on the other end, and her voice laced with panic.
Peter didn't even look back as he walked off this time, not even bothering to offer an apology.
When the Ferris wheel finally rose to its highest point, Josephine looked out over the city's sparkling lights below.
Tears silently rolled down her cheeks.
She whispered to herself, "Happy birthday, Josephine."
After that night, Josephine was rushed to the hospital with a high fever.
The steady beeping of machines filled the room, but to her ears, it was as if everything had gone quiet.
In her blurred state, she thought she saw Peter standing at her bedside.
But even as he looked at her pale and fragile form, there was not a trace of compassion in his eyes.
He curled his lips into a mocking smile.
"Serves you right. Bad people always get what they deserve in the end.
"Go ahead and die already, would you? Then I won't have to do your stupid final request."
In the dream, Josephine was shaking with rage, her teeth grinding in frustration. But her heart felt like it had been soaked in sour, bitter, aching lemon juice.
With all the strength she had left, she forced her eyes open.
But the person she had hoped to see wasn't there.
"Thank God, you're finally awake. Do you even know how long you were out?"
Josephine had always been strong-willed, while everyone else chased vanity.
Now that the Sinclair family had fallen from grace, Peter had never gotten along with her.
Everyone knew he'd be the first to show up to watch her crash and burn.
The others had picked their sides early and made it clear that they wanted nothing to do with her.
The only person still by her side was the nurse who'd been quietly looking after her all this time.
Hearing her words, Josephine quickly looked up in a panic.
"What day is it?"
Tania Clark thought she was worried about how little time she had left.
Hiding the emotion in her face, she gently tried to comfort her.
"It's the 28th. Josephine..."
"Where's my wig?"
Josephine cut her off.
Tania froze for a second.
"Here, I kept it for you."
Josephine reached out with trembling fingers and took it from her.
Her eyes were lowered, her expression unreadable.
"Tania, while I was unconscious, did anyone come to see me?"
Her voice was quiet, cautious. She clutched the wig tightly in her hands.
Tania's heart ached at the sight of her like this.
But she didn't want to lie.
"Josephine, Peter never came."
After she spoke, Tania quickly turned away and blinked back her tears.
Not only had he not come.
He hadn't even taken her calls or responded to the hints she dropped.
"Coma? Don't be ridiculous. Of all people, Josephine wouldn't fall into a coma.
"I'm busy. I don't have time for her games. Unless it's that final thing she wants, I'm not agreeing to anything. Tell her to quit wasting my time."
Chapter 7
After Peter rejected her calls three times in a row, Josephine finally lost her patience.
She sent him a text.
Sure enough, less than two minutes later, he called back.
But his voice on the other end was laced with exhaustion.
"Camila's sick. I need to be with her.
"We'll talk about the last request in a few days."
He was about to hang up when Josephine shouted, "No!"
The moment the word left her mouth, Peter gave a cold laugh.
"It's just two days. It's not like I'm breaking the deal. Josephine, enough is enough!"
Josephine's nose stung, and she swallowed the lump in her throat.
Trying to sound breezy even though her body felt like it was being ripped apart, she forced a laugh.
"Peter, there's only one thing left. Once you do it, you'll be free. Or are you having second thoughts? Still want to be stuck in this marriage with me? That's fine, I don't mind."
Peter had always been easy to provoke when it came to that kind of talk.
And just like she expected, it worked. After hanging up, Josephine sat there laughing, phone in hand.
She laughed so hard that tears streamed down her face, slipping into her mouth. The bitterness tasted like knives slicing through her heart.
She was terrified that Peter would notice something was off, and even more afraid he'd laugh at her again right before she died.
So before he arrived, Josephine had Tania do her makeup.
It was only a five-minute walk downstairs, but it took Josephine nearly 20 minutes to reach him.
"So slow. It's the last thing already. Spit it out."
He looked visibly annoyed, but Josephine wasn't fazed in the slightest.
She climbed into the passenger seat, buckled her seatbelt, and only then turned to look at him.
"It's simple. Make my lunch."
Peter stared at her as if she were crazy. "Just lunch?"
Josephine nodded.
"Just one lunch."
Peter gave her a long, suspicious look.
The first four requests had been her constantly nitpicking and making things difficult.
For the last one, he had assumed she would ask for something impossible, like plucking the moon from the sky.
But instead, all she wanted was lunch.
He glanced at the time, picked up his phone, and sent several messages.
A moment later, he started the car and drove to the supermarket.
This was the first time Josephine had ever gone grocery shopping with Peter.
The first time they ever did anything that remotely resembled what ordinary couples did.
Peter pushed the shopping cart while Josephine stood beside him, pointing out what to buy.
At the checkout, Josephine stood right by his side.
A child suddenly came running by, almost crashing into her.
Peter instinctively pulled her behind him, shielding her with his body.
And in that moment, his hand gripped hers tightly.
Josephine lowered her gaze, looking at their interlocked hands, and her eyes welled up again.
This was only the second time Peter had ever held her hand willingly.
But before she could even feel the warmth of his palm, he let go.
Back at their home, Josephine followed him inside.
This place held a few memories for them.
Peter had only married her because he was forced to, and had spent every day since finding ways to rebel against the arrangement.
His ninety-nine affairs were just the tip of the iceberg.
After changing his shoes, Peter walked straight into the kitchen.
The breath Josephine had been forcing herself to hold finally escaped, and she sank to the floor.
By the time he returned, she was wearing her usual mask again, looking calm and composed as she eyed the food he had made.
She hadn't even known Peter could cook.
The man who had always been arrogant and untouchable had learned to cook for a woman.
He must really love Camila.
"So many dishes? You think the two of us can eat all this?"
Josephine frowned slightly as he kept bringing out plate after plate.
With her current condition, she couldn't possibly eat that much.
A few bites too many, and the truth would show.
Peter set down the last plate, his expression unreadable.
"Who said it's just the two of us?"
Chapter 8
Josephine stared at him in shock.
Before she could even process what he meant, the doorbell rang.
A moment later, Peter put on a bright smile and went to open the door.
"Peter, am I late? Blame my students, they wouldn't stop asking me questions today!"
Camila moved through the entryway like she knew the place by heart, casually picking up a coffee mug from the shelf.
Josephine recognized it right away. It was the one she'd bought not long ago but never used before she walked out of this house.
Josephine couldn't stand how familiar Camila was with the house.
She felt a chill run through her body.
"You're right on time. Go wash up, lunch is ready!"
Peter's gentle voice stabbed into her ears like needles.
Camila giggled coyly and walked over to the dining table.
"Ms. Sinclair, sorry I'm late!"
Josephine didn't respond, and Camila clearly didn't care whether she did; she just headed straight to her seat.
"Peter, you're the best. You even set my utensils out in advance."
"I know how picky you are. I washed them several times just so you can check."
"Well then, what reward do you want?"
Peter reached out and pinched her cheek. "I just want you to eat properly. You've been working so hard and then got so sick, you've lost weight."
Josephine silently watched the two flirt back and forth like no one else was in the room.
Her heart, which had already died long ago, somehow began to throb again.
She couldn't help it. She had to say something to stop this farce.
"Peter, what did you mean by doing the last thing I asked?"
Every inch of her body felt like it had sprouted thorns.
When Peter finally looked at her, he noticed how thin Josephine had gotten.
Guilt flickered across his face, but his words still came out self-righteously.
"I made all this, and you wouldn't be able to finish it anyway.
"Camila just got out of the hospital. I've been with her the whole time. You're the one who insisted I do this now. I wasn't going to leave her alone."
Camila sat directly across from her, the smugness in her eyes practically screaming, "You really are an idiot."
Josephine suddenly felt exhausted.
All her strength, everything she had forced herself to hold together, came crashing down like a house of cards.
Her whole body hurt, not just her heart, but every bone, every nerve.
Head drooping, she looked like a withered husk.
The next second, she forced herself to stand.
But her eyes remained fixed on the floor.
"Peter, I should've never expected anything from you."
Her voice was barely audible, like a pin dropping onto a thick carpet, silent, unnoticed.
When she turned to leave, Peter instinctively took a step forward.
But Camila moved faster.
She reached out to stop Josephine, but her sleeve caught on the edge of Josephine's wig.
In one harsh tug, the wig was yanked off.
Peter gasped sharply.
"Josephine! Where's your hair?!"