My Cold-Hearted Husband Chases Me Again

The two exchanged flirtatious glances, their sweetness resembling a couple in the throes of a passionate romance.

On the other hand, Gianna stood between them, the biggest, brightest third wheel.

At their wedding two years ago, Roxan had gotten drunk, pushed away anyone trying to help her, and staggered toward Vince with a glass of wine. Her eyes were red, her voice hoarse as she said, "Vince, I wish you and Gianna a lifetime of happiness and many children."

As soon as she finished, crystal-like tears slid down her cheeks, and she collapsed on the spot.

On instinct, Vince caught her and scooped her into his arms.

The wedding hall fell into utter silence.

Standing under the spotlight, Gianna felt every gaze pierce her like a slap across the face.

Vince glanced back at her but offered no explanation. Instead, he turned to his mother and said coldly, "This wedding is what you wanted. But when it comes to my private life, I expect you to stay out of it.

"Roxan is my friend. I’m taking her home now."

With that, he carried Roxan out of the venue, leaving Gianna and his mother to deal with the chaos.

Michelle was furious.

By the time Gianna finished seeing off the guests and pacifying the reporters, she returned home utterly exhausted. What greeted her, however, was the sight of Vince bringing Roxan back to their marital home.

The new apartment, once cheerfully decorated for their wedding, had been turned upside down by the drunken Roxan. Even the house slippers meant for the lady of the house were now on Roxan’s feet.

And there Gianna stood, at the entryway, like an outsider.

"What are you standing there for? Get over here and help! Or do you expect me to change Roxan’s clothes myself?" Vince barked.

Gianna recalled her mother’s dying words and swallowed her grievances. She stepped forward to help, all the while knowing Roxan was only pretending to be drunk.

Yet Vince was completely oblivious.

That night, their wedding night, turned into a farcical drama involving three people.

Back in the present, Gianna found today’s replay of events utterly absurd. She looked past Roxan’s face to Vince, her expression cold and indifferent. "You’re right. It’s just a pair of slippers. I don’t need them."

Nor did she need Vince anymore.

Her tone was distant, a stark contrast to the soft and gentle demeanor she once had.

Vince frowned, his gaze turning cold. "You’ve been gone all day, and now you come back with an attitude? Gianna, wipe that fake sickly makeup off your face. I’m not buying this pity act."

Gianna chuckled dryly and shifted her gaze to Roxan. She didn’t speak, but the sarcasm in her expression was unmistakable.

Roxan, understanding the unspoken jab, feigned ignorance and played innocent. "Gianna, don’t take it to heart. Vince was just joking. He didn’t mean anything by it."

Turning to Vince, she added with a touch of reproach, "Vince, you shouldn’t always speak to Gianna like that. After all, you’re married." Her voice grew soft and pitiful, tears welling in her eyes. "If my presence is disrupting your life, I won’t come over anymore."

Seeing her distress, Vince immediately pulled her into his arms. "This has nothing to do with you. If anyone disrupted my life, it was her taking away my freedom to choose who I marry."

"Fine. I’ll apply for a divorce in a few days and give you your freedom. Satisfied?" Gianna’s tone was cold and detached. She was too exhausted and in too much pain to argue. All she wanted now was a good night’s sleep.

Without sparing the two another glance, she slipped into her usual slippers and walked to the guest bedroom she now called her own.

Vince was stunned, thinking he must have misheard her. When he called out to her, the door had already closed.

Lying on the bed, Gianna’s eyes burned with unshed tears. She couldn’t close them, no matter how hard she tried.

Memories from the past flooded her mind, making her already fragile body feel even more broken.