Love and hate intertwined

I had loved Silas for ten years. But on the very day I was diagnosed with a terminal illness, his first love returned home. I loved him. Whether he loved me in return, I didn't know—I couldn't feel it. But I was certain he would never cheat. In the final days of my life, I flawlessly played the role of the perfect wife. After I died, he found my diary. And when he finished reading it, he broke down and wept with a gut-wrenching, soul-crushing agony.

Chapters

Chapter 16

The next morning, I got up before dawn, brewed his espresso, and packed his lunch.

When he emerged from the bedroom, dressed in a sharp Tom Ford suit, he headed for the door but stopped halfway through the foyer.

"Nina," he said softly, "I forgot my tie."

I sighed—a look that perfectly encapsulated a deeply loving but exasperated wife. I went upstairs, grabbed a dark blue silk tie, came back down, and handed it to him.

He didn't take it. He lowered his head, his eyes intense. "Do it for me, Nina."

I stepped closer, looping the silk around his collar, my fingers deftly tying the knot. He stood perfectly still, obedient and quiet, watching my face. When I finished, I patted his chest. "There."

Before I could step back, his hands locked onto my waist, pulling me hard against him.

"Sila—" The moment I opened my mouth, his lips crashed down on mine.

It wasn't a sweet goodbye kiss; it was aggressive, possessive, and bruising.

He kissed me like a starving wolf, his tongue invading my mouth, his hands gripping my waist tight enough to leave bruises. It was the act of a man desperately trying to prove something to himself.

When he finally pulled away, his chest was heaving, a faint flush high on his cheekbones.

I looked at him, my expression placid, my breathing perfectly even.

He kissed my forehead, his tone a little hesitant this time. "I'm going to work, Nina."

"Have a good day," I smiled.

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