Born into the Kingston family, I had my pick of men, yet I ended up marrying Liam Hayes, a man who might as well have been mute. The first year of our marriage, I was home alone one night, burning up with fever. I managed to send ten desperate voice messages to Liam on FaceTime, begging him to come home. Not a single reply. The second year, I was robbed on a foreign street, nearly having my throat slit. I called Liam, who was at a nearby conference, for help. Twenty calls, all unanswered. The fifth year, my car’s central control system malfunctioned on the highway. I was pregnant and suffered a massive hemorrhage, my life hanging by a thread. The surgeons desperately needed a guardian’s signature. I called him, but all I heard was the endless ringing. In despair, I signed the surgical consent form myself. On the operating table, I silently felt my child slipping away, bit by painful bit. That was it. My heart finally gave up on him. The moment I was off the operating table, I stormed into Liam’s office with a hammer and smashed his phone to pieces. “If you can’t read messages or answer calls, what’s the point of keeping it!” Liam stood calmly to the side, letting me rage. Until a specially set message tone rang from his shattered phone, only to be instantly silenced by my hammer. A flicker of emotion finally crossed his calm face. He quickly grabbed his car keys and rushed downstairs. Furious, I hailed a cab and followed his car closely. Half an hour later, his car pulled into a high-end apartment complex. Under the bright sun, I saw a woman, pale and visibly pregnant, carefully stepping out of the building. From her profile, she looked young and pretty.
Liam rushed forward. After listening to her tearful complaints, he carefully scooped her up into his arms. “The baby will be fine, don’t be scared…” His low, comforting voice reached my ears. I clutched the car window, squeezing so hard my nails broke, tiny streaks of blood welling up. I never knew that my husband of five years, with whom I shared a life day in and day out, would respond so promptly to a SnapChat message. That he would show such worry, such tenderness. That he would have… another woman, and a child. I trembled all over, tears streaming down my face from a bitter laugh. It had to be this day, the day I lost my own child, that I witnessed all of this firsthand. I stumbled home in a daze and collapsed onto the bed. The child I lost came to me in a dream, calling me “Mommy,” repeating “I’m sorry” over and over. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my wrist. The child vanished, replaced by Liam’s utterly cold face. “Zara lost her baby because you threw a fit and smashed my phone. I didn’t see her message in time to make arrangements.” The calmer his tone, the tighter his grip. My wrist felt like it was about to shatter. I let out a laugh. “Dead? Good. Why should your child live when mine is gone!” Liam stared at me, his face turning terrifying. After a long silence, he climbed onto the bed and began to strip my clothes, almost maniacally saying, “You owe her a child. Get pregnant and miscarry to pay her back.” “Liam Hayes!” I shrieked, my heart numb with pain. I talked about *my* child, *our* child, but he… didn’t hear me. It turned out his world, even face-to-face, was closed off to me. He was always ‘read,’ but never ‘replied’! I struggled desperately, my fingers brushing against the fruit knife on the nightstand. I grabbed it and plunged it into his chest. I hated him. I wanted him dead! But Liam didn’t die, only suffered a minor injury. I visited him in the hospital with my lawyer. He was in an online meeting with a client, not even sparing me a glance— He never tolerated interruptions during work. His phone on the nightstand suddenly chimed with that special message alert. Liam picked it up, glanced at it, paused the meeting, and typed out a long reply. I caught a glimpse of the chat name: Zara Miller. My heart instantly turned cold, an overwhelming emptiness settling in. So, Liam *could* be prompt with replies, even if it meant interrupting an important international meeting. They chatted for a full ten minutes before the meeting resumed. Another hour passed, and the meeting ended. I finally spoke, “Let’s get a divorce. You’re the one at fault, so you’ll have to compensate me generously in the property division.” Liam looked up at me, his cold eyes slightly surprised. “Zara’s child isn’t mine. I’ve never been physically intimate with her, and I never will be.” Then he changed tack: “But I’ll do everything I can for her. You’d better not try anything against her.” That guarded look pierced my heart. “How long have you two… why…” “A year.” Liam ignored the second question, pulling out a photo of Zara from his wallet and handing it to me. Then, without looking at me, he signed the divorce papers. “I hope to really see you at the registry in a month.” He said it with a hint of sarcasm. I didn’t react, just stared at his wallet, almost burning a hole through it with my gaze. My photo had never been in there. After a long moment, I tore my gaze from his wallet and looked at Zara’s face. After a brief愣神, I took a deep breath. “You will.” Liam didn’t believe I would actually go through with the divorce. Perhaps he was used to my pursuit. After all, I had endured five years of marriage where I sent ten thousand messages and he gave zero replies. But this time, I was truly awake. Turning around, I walked to the door. Liam frowned and called out to me. “That villa in the South District you liked? I’ve transferred it to Zara. It has a forest oxygen bar, which will be good for her recovery after giving birth.” My hand clenched into a fist, my nails digging deeply into my palm. “I told you, didn’t I? That house was the first gift I intended for our baby, even though… she’s gone now.” There was no response from behind me. I looked back. Liam was typing on his phone, his attention already elsewhere. Hah. I quickly left the hospital room, as if putting distance between myself and this place could also distance me from this failed relationship. Fleeing to my car, I pulled out that photo again, my fingers trembling uncontrollably. It was uncanny. Zara Miller looked *so much* like Daisy Stone, Liam Hayes’s deceased first love. The woman Liam truly wanted to marry. Five years ago, the Hayes family faced a financial crisis. Only the Kingston family extended an olive branch. The condition was to form a marital alliance, strengthening the bond between our families. My father had long seen my affection for Liam, so he intended to help his daughter find happiness. Our families met immediately. I looked at Liam boldly, my eyes full of stars. But when he spoke, he said he wanted to marry Daisy Stone, my stepmother’s daughter. That’s when I learned they were in love. Family came first. There was no need to risk investing in the Hayes family for a stepdaughter. My father decisively withdrew the marriage proposal and advised me to give up on Liam. “Sweetheart, a good marriage is built on mutual affection. Otherwise, you’ll only suffer.” I had initially given up the idea.
But Liam, desperate to save his family, contacted me privately to express his intention to marry. He only took me out for dinner once, and I was completely lost, tossing my father’s words aside. I confidently believed that his change of heart meant he had feelings for me, and with my beauty and good nature, he would eventually fall in love with me. Our wedding, supported by my father’s wealth, was grand. It should have been a day filled with bubbling happiness whenever I recalled it. Unfortunately, before the banquet ended, news of Daisy Stone’s suicide arrived, abruptly ending all joy. My memory of that day is only of Liam rushing out of the wedding hall, my stepmother’s wails, countless whispers, and my father’s heartbroken gaze. Their honeymoon was canceled. Everything was in disarray. For the first six months of our marriage, Liam simply didn’t reply to messages, claiming he preferred phone calls. Six months later, the Hayes family’s fortunes rose, unstoppable. Then, he stopped answering calls altogether. He was like a black hole; I poured all my joys and sorrows into him, but not even an echo came back. I broke down, confronted him, and demanded to know why. Liam showed me SnapChat messages from our wedding day. It turned out Daisy had messaged him before she took her own life, but I had dragged him away to toast guests, making him miss the chance to save her. He hated himself, and he hated me. Now he found a substitute who resembled her by eighty percent, channeling all his emotions into her, treating her a hundred times better than me. I snapped out of my memories, crumpled the photo, and tossed it away. I looked at my reflection in the rearview mirror— My face was ashen, my hair frizzy and disheveled. I looked like a madwoman. For five years, I clung to Liam, unwilling to let go. The less he responded, the more messages I sent, as if possessed, desperate to force a single reply from him. Yet, all I did was torture myself. Countless breakdowns, fits of rage, followed by solitary moments of calm and healing. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in five years. “Is the promise from five years ago still valid?” When I got married, a man had tried to dissuade me three times. I talked about love; he talked about sex. “Liam is too rigid. Trust me, he’ll be just as boring in bed. What you need is a fire.” I laughed, “Who’s the fire? You?” He raised an eyebrow, neither confirming nor denying. “Aria, I bet you two will break up within five years. If I win, consider me first.” “I’m still single, so, of course, it counts.” His familiar voice on the other end brought me back to reality. “I’m divorcing in a month. I don’t need love, I just need a man to have some fun with for a while, to let loose.” He burst out laughing. “Alright, sweetheart! I’ll play along!” I hung up, went home, tidied myself up, and prepared for my mother’s death anniversary the next day. Every year, my father took my mother’s death anniversary very seriously. The next day, when my father and I met, he looked displeased not seeing Liam with me. “He can’t make it again? Can’t spare even an hour?” I stepped forward and linked my arm through his, forcing a lighthearted smile. “Dad, we’re getting a divorce. I initiated it.” “It doesn’t matter whether he comes or not!” My father stared at me for a long moment, then gently patted my head. “Cut your losses. My daughter did the right thing.” We lit incense before my mother’s portrait, then went to the kitchen to cook her favorite homemade dishes. Just as we finished setting the table, Mr. and Mrs. Hayes stormed in, and Mrs. Hayes, without a word, slapped me hard across the face. “Mr. Kingston! Look at the good daughter you raised! She stabbed my son and put him in the hospital, and she hasn’t even gone to care for him! Is that how a wife behaves?!” I snapped back to reality, stepped forward to shield my enraged father, and without hesitation, slapped Mrs. Hayes back. Then I snatched my phone and called Liam. It rang once, then connected. *That* was fast. I sneered, “Your parents are making a scene at my house. Get over here and get them out. Today’s my mom’s death anniversary!” Liam’s voice was as calm as ever: “I… can’t leave the hospital right now.” “Liam honey~ Which sofa do you think would look better in the villa you gave me? Come sit and help me decide.” Zara’s sugary voice came from the background. I gripped the phone tightly, about to speak, when I heard Liam say, “You can’t eat anything cold right now.” Then, the call disconnected. I stood there, staring blankly, like a statue. Mrs. Hayes scoffed, “You hit his mother, and you expect him to side with you? Dream on! Not to mention, you’ve never won his heart in these five years.” With that, she arrogantly swept the entire table of dishes—that my father and I hadn’t even had a chance to “offer” to Mother—onto the floor. The shattered dishes knocked over Mother’s portrait, and it broke. I came to my senses, held my trembling father back, and looked at my in-laws, whom I had respectfully treated for five years. “I tolerated you before because I cared about Liam. Now, I don’t even care about him, let alone you!” Leaving that statement hanging, I grabbed two bodyguards, a man and a woman, and drove straight to Mr. and Mrs. Hayes’s house. The two bodyguards ensured I wasn’t disturbed. I personally took a baseball bat and started smashing things from the living room, all the way to Mrs. Hayes’s favorite walk-in closet. Amidst Mrs. Hayes’s frantic screams over her precious jewelry, Liam strode in and grabbed my arm. “Haven’t you had enough?” I panted, looked up at him, and smiled. “Oh, you have time now? You got here so fast, less than fifteen minutes.” I forcefully pushed him away, dropped the bat, and walked towards the door. A figure stood by the door, peeking in. Seeing me, she quickly said, “I’m so sorry, it was my fault for delaying Liam. He didn’t mean to ignore you…” Zara’s carefully crafted ‘innocent’ act. I couldn’t be bothered to engage. As I brushed past, she retreated, apologizing profusely, and then sat down hard on the floor. “Oh… my stomach hurts so much…” “Zara.” Liam rushed over to support her, lightly bumping into me. This slight force shouldn’t have been enough to make me fall, but my lower abdomen suddenly cramped, the pain was excruciating.
My vision went black, and I instantly fell to my knees. Sweat pouring down my face, I braced myself on the floor and looked up. Just a yard away, Liam had scooped Zara into his arms, his posture tender and doting. Zara’s face was flushed, well-cared for by Liam; there was no sign of pain. Hearing the thud as I fell, Liam frowned. “Are you trying to fake an injury to frame Zara, planning to blame her first?” Mrs. Hayes let out a snicker. I wanted to laugh too. I, a young lady cherished by my father, how did I let this marriage degrade me so? I bit my lip, bracing myself against the door frame, slowly rising to my feet. Mrs. Hayes watched with cold eyes. “Zara has a gentle nature. She suits Liam well.” “Indeed,” I nodded, gasping, “A family that relies on my Kingston family’s money to recover but shows no gratitude, only deserves a cheap trick you could buy for a few bucks, someone only fit to be *your* kind of daughter-in-law.” “Silence!” Liam took two steps forward, his voice sharp. Zara hooked her foot, using the forward momentum to kick me hard. I swayed, stumbling several times, clutching the door frame to avoid falling again. My lower abdomen ached fiercely, and the footprint on my chest hurt just as much. I stared blankly at the gray mark; it was like a brand of humiliation, completely shattering this marriage. Liam had lost his composure, a rare sight. Unfortunately, it was all for a woman who worked in a shady massage parlor. I had investigated. It was this low-class woman who made Liam anxious, worried, and impulsive. And now, she was even riding high, using his influence to walk all over me. I slowly raised my gaze, cold sweat running into my eyes, blurring Liam’s face. He looked nothing like the man who once made my heart pound. Perhaps, both of them were now unrecognizable. “Go clean yourself up before you come down. I married a lady, not a lunatic.” Liam said flatly. “Liam Hayes,” I tilted my head and smiled, “Why didn’t you just die?” I lunged forward, plunging the utility knife in my hand into his chest. This was the second time he’d been stabbed, and it took Liam a long time to react. His parents wrestled me away, but he just stared blankly into my eyes, his voice unsteady: “You… you really want me dead?” My eyes were bloodshot. The “yes” caught in my throat was cut off by Mrs. Hayes’s shriek. “She’s bleeding so much!” Everyone looked in the direction I was pointing—a large patch of crimson had spread across my dress, darkest at my upper thigh. “Aria!” Liam, oblivious to his own wound, shot up and rushed over, embracing me. His voice held a panic I’d never heard before. “What’s wrong with you? You… get the car! Get the car!” My eyes had lost focus, but my hand gripped the hallway railing tightly, refusing to let go. My voice was barely a whisper: “Bodyguard… take me, take me to the hospital… bodyguard… housekeeper…” “I’ll take you! You’ll be fine, you’ll be fine…” Liam fumbled to pry my hand off, but couldn’t. “I don’t believe you!” I suddenly shrieked, “You wouldn’t be that kind! You’ve never cared about me… you wouldn’t… Bodyguard! Bodyguard! Help me!” Only when I clasped Chloe’s hand did I finally faint. Liam carried me, running all the way to the car, his hand gently cradling my head. Over the years, he was used to me glaring at him, always ready for a fight. He had never seen me so frail. Sweat and blood soaked me through. My once taut bowstring had withered into a thin piece of wood, ready to snap with a slight squeeze. Liam pressed his face against my cold one, repeating “You’ll be fine,” “You’ll be fine”… I didn’t know if he was saying it to me, or to himself. I woke up when it was dark. “Miss Kingston, how do you feel? Should I call the doctor?” Chloe rushed forward to ask. Only Mason and she were in the room. “Where’s Liam?” My voice was faint. “Zara Miller… was hospitalized. Mr. Hayes went to the room next door an hour ago.” She paused, then continued, “Your father called. I told him you were out with friends.” “Good job.” I took out my phone, found a video I always kept in my album, and sent it to my father—a clip of me drinking at a bar, to reassure him. Exiting the chat, I saw a new friend request. As soon as I accepted it, “Zara” sent a flurry of pictures. ‘The day I miscarried, Liam stayed by my bedside the whole time, just like this, sleeping slumped over.’ ‘That night, I called him, heartbroken about losing the baby. He came right away to comfort me, still in his hospital gown.’ ‘Just now, I said my stomach felt uncomfortable, and he fed me porridge and peeled fruit. Miss Kingston, do you know how skilled your husband is at peeling fruit with a knife?’ I looked at the photo of the perfectly peeled apple skin, thin and even, showing his excellent knife work. *No, I don’t,* I thought. ‘It’s fine if you look down on me, Miss Kingston. Liam looking up to me is enough. Seeing you almost die from a hemorrhage is pretty pitiful, so I told Liam to come check on you.’ A minute later, Liam indeed came into the room. He looked at me, his deep eyes holding an emotion I couldn’t decipher. Just then, the attending physician came in. Liam asked, “Why did Aria… hemorrhage so badly?” The doctor looked at him in surprise. Just as he was about to say, “After her miscarriage, she didn’t recover properly,” I spoke, cutting him off. “I know my own body, no need to ask.”
Liam sat by the hospital bed, watched me for a long moment, then gently took my hand. “I had the chef at home make some porridge. Want some?” I managed a strange smile. “Sure.” Liam opened the thermos, scooped out a small bowl, and brought a spoonful to my lips. Zara’s exact same porridge. Zara’s exact same caring gesture. I slapped his hand away, knocking the entire bowl to the floor. I slowly and meticulously wiped my hand with a tissue. “My apologies, but I hate red dates, and I hate sweet porridge.” “My chef has worked for five years and still doesn’t know my taste. Your effort was wasted, fire him.” Liam called someone to clean up, his emotions steady. “What would you like to eat? I’ll have the chef make it.” I didn’t want to talk. Liam called the chef, asking about my preferences, then listed dishes one by one, watching for any reaction from me. “Shrimp porridge. That’s it.” He finally said. I said coldly, “My accident has nothing to do with your Hayes family. You can go. No need to waste your time here. We’re already divorced, anyway!” Liam didn’t listen. He went to the bathroom, wet a towel, and came back to wipe my hands and face. Before, I begged him to come, and he didn’t hear. Now, I ordered him to leave, and he still didn’t hear. I threw the water glass at him. “Get out!” Liam’s shirt was soaked, but he didn’t even look. He moved everything from the nightstand within my reach. “Keep throwing. Once you’re done, keep cleaning yourself. You’re sticky with sweat, you’ll be uncomfortable.” I kept throwing things at him. When everything was thrown, Liam picked them up and motioned for me to continue. The third time, I couldn’t throw anymore, letting him wipe my body like he was caring for a paralyzed elder. After he fed me the porridge, Liam’s phone chimed with that special alert. He stood up. “Zara is still in her post-miscarriage recovery and isn’t feeling well. I’ll go check on her.” He didn’t return all night. In the morning, my friend, the doctor, came to check on me, asking why I had hidden the miscarriage from Liam last night. “When he brought you in for emergency care, his chest wound was covered in blood. Everyone advised him to get it bandaged, but he wouldn’t listen. He only went after you were out of the emergency room. Aria, if you had seen how distraught he was, you’d know he absolutely cares about you.” “I know. I was slightly conscious then, I felt it.” I looked out the window, the sunlight stinging my eyes, making me squint. “That’s why I’m scared. Scared that if he knew and felt a little pity for me, I’d fall for him again. My bottom line for him is… incredibly low.” But a human life stood between them. Liam would never be able to cross that chasm and truly connect with me. The illness took a heavy toll on me. I stayed in the hospital for five days, then recuperated at home for a full week. Those five days, Liam, uncharacteristically, pushed aside his work to care for me. For the following week, he was on a business trip. But from the provocative videos and pictures Zara sent me, I knew he had taken her along. Liam always hated mixing business with pleasure. When we first got married, I wanted to accompany him on business trips to help him with his daily life, but he refused, saying I was too much of a free spirit. Now, I wondered how many times he had broken his own rules for Zara. ‘I told him I’d never been to Shanghai, so Liam brought me along. Your husband is so thoughtful.’ ‘He took me to a revolving restaurant and Disneyland, promising to show me an even bigger world in the future.’ ‘He took all these pictures of me. I love taking photos so much; we took them for two whole hours. Your husband is so patient, and his photography skills are amazing!’ I had never enjoyed any of these, not even once. I didn’t know his heart was so soft, so accommodating; I didn’t know he was such a good photographer… How ridiculous. I was learning about my own husband from another woman. I typed a reply: ‘Why no bed pictures? Don’t you want to sleep with him?’ The other end went instantly silent. I tossed my phone aside and called the housekeeper. “Pack all of Liam’s belongings into boxes.” This was our marital home, bought by my father. I personally decorated it when I was full of happy illusions about love. In a week, we would be divorced. Liam was the one who should leave. Returning from his business trip, Liam sensed a change in the house. But I liked to rearrange the decor, so he didn’t pay much attention, handing me a gift. “My work is temporarily finished. I can spend three days with you. Where do you want to go? A change of scenery would be good for your health.” I was astonished. All these years, he had never proactively offered to spend time with me. Many travel itineraries I had eagerly planned were canceled, day after day, due to his “busy work schedule.” The refusal was already on my lips, but then vivid images of all the plans I had carefully made flashed in my mind. That was the accumulated resentment of five years. After a long pause, I said: “Let’s drive to the beach. I love the sand.” Let this terrible marriage have a somewhat dignified farewell. I opened the gift box and took out the LV cashmere shawl. Even though the color didn’t match my taste at all, I graciously put it on. Liam drove the sports car as I requested. Halfway there, his phone chimed with that special message alert. ‘Liam, I twisted my ankle, it hurts so much.’ Liam immediately called Zara and simultaneously changed the navigation—he actually had my location on a couple’s app. I stared intently at the app. I checked online; it was indeed a couple’s app. At this point, did it even matter if they were physically intimate?
My head throbbed. I rolled down the window, letting the wind rush in to carry away the sudden surge of emotions. “Liam Hayes, I ask for nothing from you. You offered to take me on this trip, you should follow through.” “Turning back will take two hours. Do you expect me to sit in a car all morning?! My body can’t handle it, you arrange someone else—” “I don’t trust anyone else.” Liam calmly interrupted me. I was utterly speechless, my eyes welling up slightly. A twisted ankle, and he said he didn’t trust anyone else. So what were all those years I endured alone—the high fever, the fear of almost being slit, the car accident…? Did it mean I was tough, capable of surviving without anyone’s care? “Liam, I’m sorry to bother you again.” The car picked up Zara, and Liam helped her in. I glanced over inadvertently and froze— Zara had an identical shawl draped over her shoulder, only its color scheme was much prettier than mine, exactly my style. “Liam Hayes, who chose the shawl for me?” I asked, enunciating each word. Zara said, “Miss Kingston, don’t you like yours? There were only two left at the counter then. I thought you, being older, might prefer a more mature style, so I picked the younger color first.” She looked apologetic. “Shall we swap?” I couldn’t be bothered with her. My gaze was fixed on Liam. “You gave me the leftovers? Am I, Aria Kingston, a garbage bin?!” I ripped off the shawl and threw it out the car window. Zara looked as if she was too scared to speak. Liam gently patted her shoulder. “It’s fine.” He buckled her seatbelt, then got into the driver’s seat, saying indifferently, “It’s just a different color. You make such a big deal out of everything, no wonder you’re always unhappy.” After a long silence, I scoffed. “So you *do* see that I’m unhappy.” He saw, but he never cared. The car changed course and headed to the hospital. By the time Zara emerged after getting a plaster cast, the entire morning was gone, and my planned trip was still at square one. “Let’s have lunch first. Zara is hungry, and you probably are too.” Liam said to me, his gaze shifting to Zara in the back seat. “Do you want Thai food or Xinjiang cuisine?” Zara smiled, asking in an affectedly innocent tone, “Liam, how do you remember I like these two cuisines? You’re amazing!” Liam offered a slight smile. “If you put your mind to it, it’s not hard to remember.” That smile was like a curved blade, carving a deep gash in my heart. Zara continued, “And what do I like to drink, do you remember?” “Fresh orange juice.” “What’s my favorite fruit?” “Durian.” “My favorite way to cook ribs?” “Braised.” “What does Miss Kingston like to eat?” Liam, who had answered effortlessly, stumbled. I said coldly, “If you want to be all lovey-dovey, go get a hotel room. Don’t be disgusting and flirt in my car.” Liam frowned. “Do you only have such sordid thoughts in your head? Zara is like a sister to me.” Zara’s eyes reddened. “Miss Kingston, I’m sorry if I caused a misunderstanding. I… I won’t say anything else. Liam, please pull over and drop me off. I’m not that hungry, actually.” Liam gave me a reproachful look and decisively said: “It’s lunchtime. We’re all eating together.” I folded my arms. “Fine. I want French cuisine.” This time, Liam didn’t object, indulging me. He drove the car to the restaurant entrance but didn’t get out. “Zara isn’t used to French cuisine, and her foot is injured, so she needs someone to look after her. I’ll eat Xinjiang food with her and pick you up afterward.” Before I could speak, the car glided forward and drove off. I watched the tail lights under the scorching sun, standing there for a long while. That car was a birthday gift I bought for Liam in our first year of marriage. I still remembered my excitement and hope that he would be surprised. But Liam had only glanced at it and never driven it. Today was his first time. I waited five years for that dream to come true, only for him to drive off, leaving me behind with another woman. So, no thank you, Liam Hayes. I won’t always wait for you. I don’t *have* to wait for you. After lunch, I called a cab and my bodyguards, heading to the beach alone. My itinerary and hotel were already booked; I didn’t want to waste them. During this time, Liam called three times in total, which was a lot for him. I didn’t answer any of them. The first day, I did all the activities I wanted, went to all the places I desired, and found quite a bit of enjoyment. The second day, as I walked along the beach, I unexpectedly ran into Zara. Liam stood beside her, carrying bags of food, and was using a tissue to wipe her mouth. Seeing me, his movements paused. “When did you arrive? Why didn’t you leave a message? Zara and I looked for you for a long time yesterday. She’s still recovering from her miscarriage and twisted her ankle, so she’s exhausted—” And what about me? I was tossed around in the car for over five hours yesterday because of her. Was *I* not exhausted? I suppressed these meaningless arguments, turned around expressionlessly, and walked towards the sea, leaving them behind. Zara jogged to catch up, her lowered voice dripping with smugness. “Miss Kingston, you’re really boring. No matter how much time you waste on Liam, his heart will only ever be with me.” I chuckled. “Only with you? You’ve been with him this long and you still don’t know you’re just a substitute?” Watching Zara’s face drain of color didn’t actually feel that satisfying. I idly kicked the seawater when suddenly a force yanked me forward, and my feet lost purchase— Below me was an underwater cliff, bottomless and black! “Miss Kingston, your high-and-mighty attitude is really annoying. I heard Liam say you’re not a great swimmer. I wonder if this will teach you a lesson~” Zara let go of me and swam away gracefully. The water at the cliff was icy cold, and I was only a mediocre swimmer to begin with. I panicked instantly. I choked on several gulps of water, struggling to paddle towards the shore, but a current pulled me further and further away. Panic-stricken cries came from nearby; it turned out the same rip current had also caught Zara. But she was much stronger; at least she could breathe normally. In the churning waves, I saw Liam. He was rushing towards us, swimming so fast, so fiercely. I instinctively grabbed his arm, tilting my face out of the water to catch a breath. But my hand was violently shaken off and pushed away. Before I could even gasp, I plunged back into the sea. The suffocating sensation rapidly spread through my entire body. This time, I had no strength left to struggle. I could only watch helplessly as Liam steadily swam Zara to safety nearby. Darkness rushed in, and I slowly sank into the deep sea… “Miss Kingston? Miss Kingston? How do you feel?” I coughed up a mouthful of seawater, opening my eyes to find myself lying on the beach, with my two soaked bodyguards beside me. I gripped Chloe’s hand tightly, staring motionless at the azure sky above, until my eyes stung and a tear slipped from the corner.
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “298901”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic
Leave a Reply