It was a gamble: death or a life with Evan.
As Megan, drunk and unsteady, charged at me and pushed me down the stairs, a single wild thought dominated my mind. I let her come at me without resisting.
I survived. I knew then that I had won the gamble.
......
“Avery, you are truly revolting.”
He glanced at the dining table before turning his gaze to me, a sneer of mockery curling his lips, almost scoffing at my foolish dreams.
As usual, after his harsh words, he ignored me completely, walking past without a second glance.
I sat at the dining table, watching the carefully prepared breakfast grow cold.
This has been my routine for three years.
Despite my culinary improvements, he never tasted a bite.
Our marriage felt like a stalmate, exhausting both of us.
Each day, I bore the weight of guilt for that man while yearning for a glance from him, constantly trying to win his favor.
“Madam...”
Quinn, holding a newspaper, looked at me hesitantly, his voice filled with concern.
“Bring it here,” I said.
Perhaps I sought out suffering. It seemed he was punishing me for forcing him to marry me. Over these years, he never touched me, yet his affairs never ceased.
The newspaper displayed photos of a man and a woman entering a luxury hotel—the man was him, and the woman...
Seeing her familiar yet strange face in the paper nearly stopped my heart. I murmured, "She's back, she really is."
My hands shook so much that I dropped the newspaper onto the dining table.
The happiness I had stolen was over.
Memories flooded back like a tide.
In a random encounter, a drunken Megan charged at me on the balcony. I could have dodged, but chose not to; my mind was filled with thoughts of Evan, and I let her push me down.
It was a gamble: death or a life with Evan.
I survived and used the opportunity to blackmail Evan into marrying me. Otherwise, I would have pressed charges against Megan.
My wish was fulfilled.
Megan left the country, and I married Evan.
I had used despicable means to tear apart a loving couple and forced myself into marriage with Evan.
I knew I owed her an apology, but the me driven mad by love couldn't care less. I've been deeply guilty all these years.
"People say, 'Avery, are you mad? That man is your brother-in-law, and competing with your sister over a man will bring karma.'"
And wasn't it karma? Over these years, all he showed me was cold indifference, never a shred of warmth. He hated me.
"People say, 'Avery, you're beautiful and from a good family. Why must it be Evan?'"
Indeed, why? But isn't love always about that one irreplaceable person?
It's time to end it, to free everyone from this pain.
I stood up dazedly, my face frighteningly pale. Quinn called out to me.
My gaze lingered on the untouched breakfast, "It's cold, throw it away."
Quinn hesitated.
I returned to my room, sat at the vanity, and looked at my pale face in the mirror, touching my face, "Avery, you've changed; three years of marriage have turned you from the bright sun into the winter snow."
I placed the signed divorce papers in the drawer.I took out a blank sheet of paper, and my mind was full of words before I picked up the pen. But when I started to write, all words seemed so pale and weak. I didn't know what to write. After a few attempts, only a few words remained: "It's over, you're free."
I wrote these words with all the strength of my life.
It hurt so much, as if my heart was being pierced by a blade.
