The Heartbreak Prescription

Wendy was also staring at him. Her tone was light but firm as she repeated, "Let's get a divorce, Stanley. Do you like your birthday gift?"

Stanley didn't bat an eyelid. "You're asking for a divorce just because I didn't celebrate my birthday with you?"

"Jessica has returned, hasn't she?"

At the mention of Jessica, Stanley's thin lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. He took a step forward, closing the distance between them. "Are you bothered by Jessica?"

Stanley, known as the youngest business prodigy alive, exuded an aura of power, wealth, and status. As he approached, Wendy instinctively stepped back, her slender back pressing against the cold wall.

Her vision went dark as Stanley leaned in. He propped one hand against the wall beside her, trapping her between his firm chest and the wall.

Looking down at her with his deep, striking eyes, Stanley sneered.

"Everyone in Hovendale knows Jessica was the one I intended to marry. Weren't you aware when you schemed to replace her and became Mrs. Hawk? You didn’t mind then, so why act all self-righteous now?"

Wendy's face turned pale.

Yes, Stanley had wanted to marry Jessica. If not for the accident that left him in a coma, how could Wendy have married him?

She would never forget the day he woke up. The disappointment and coldness in his eyes when he saw her was devastating.

Since then, they had lived in separate rooms. He never touched her.

He loved Jessica.

Wendy had always known this, but...

She gazed deeply at Stanley's face, the grown man overlapping in her mind with the young boy from years ago.

'Stanley, do you really not remember me?'

It turned out she had been standing in place all along, waiting for someone that no longer existed.

It was enough.

These three years were just her one-sided effort to cherish him.

Suppressing the ache in her heart, Wendy said softly, "Stanley, let's end this loveless marriage."

Stanley's brows arched sharply, and his deep, magnetic voice could be heard. "Loveless?"

He raised his hand, gripping her delicate chin, his thumb brushing against her crimson lips in a provocative motion. "Is that why? Are you asking for a divorce because of that? Do you want it that badly?"

Wendy's delicate face flushed red like a ripe berry, vibrant and tempting.

That wasn’t what she meant!

Yet his thumb lingered on her lips, pressing and toying with them. She hadn't expected such a composed and distinguished man to have such a teasing, roguish side.

Stanley was seeing Wendy up close for the first time. She usually dressed in monotonous black-and-white outfits, paired with oversized black-framed glasses, presenting herself like an old maid.

But up close, he realized her face was barely the size of his palm, and her delicate features exuded a quiet elegance beneath those glasses. Her dark pupils were stunningly beautiful.

Her lips were soft, their plush surface springing back with a subtle elasticity wherever his thumb pressed.

It stirred an unbidden thought.

Stanley’s gaze darkened. "I didn’t expect you to be so eager. You’re that desperate for a man, aren’t you?"

Slap!

Wendy raised her hand and slapped him across the face. Stanley’s handsome face tilted to the side from the impact.

Wendy’s fingers trembled with anger. She realized that loving someone too humbly only led to her dignity being trampled on. He had actually humiliated her.

Furious, she declared, "I know you’ve never stopped thinking about Jessica. Fine, I’ll fulfill your wishes and return Mrs. Hawk’s title to her!"

Stanley’s face instantly darkened, frosty and sullen. A man of his stature had never been slapped before—never!

His sharp gaze locked onto her. "Wendy, you married me when it was convenient for you, and now you want a divorce just because you feel like it. What do you take me for?"

Wendy let out a soft chuckle. "A plaything."

"What?"

Stanley’s expression stiffened.

Wendy forced herself to endure the pain in her heart and said what she knew would hurt him. "You’re just a toy I took from Jessica. I’m done playing, so I’m tossing you aside."

Stanley’s expression turned grim, his mood darkening to the point where it could drip with venom. "Fine! Wendy, you’re something else. Let’s divorce, but don’t come crying back to me, begging for reconciliation!"

He stormed upstairs, slamming the study door shut with a deafening bang.

Wendy felt as though all the strength had been drained from her body. Slowly, she slid down the wall, crouching on the carpet. Hugging her knees, she whispered to herself, 'Stanley, I won’t love you anymore.'

-

The next morning, Mathilda entered the study.

Stanley was seated at his desk, reviewing documents. He was a notorious workaholic.

"Sir," Mathilda greeted Stanley cautiously.

Stanley didn’t even look up. His icy aura hinted at his foul mood. It felt cold being around him.

Mathilda carefully placed a cup of coffee by his hand. "Sir, this coffee was made by Mrs. Hawk."

Stanley’s pen paused mid-air, his cold expression softening slightly.

Was she trying to make amends?

Truth be told, Wendy was an excellent wife. She cooked to his preferences, hand-washed his clothes, and meticulously managed his daily needs.

Stanley picked up the coffee, taking a sip. It was her coffee—the taste he liked.

But he was still angry.

She had slapped him last night, and he wasn’t about to let that go easily. A single cup of coffee wouldn’t suffice as an apology.

"Did she admit she was wrong?" Stanley asked.

Mathilda glanced at him hesitantly. "Sir, Mrs. Hawk has left."

Stanley froze, looking up at Mathilda.

She handed him a piece of paper. "Sir, Mrs. Hawk left this with her suitcase and asked me to give this to you before she left."

Stanley unfolded the paper. The words 'Divorce Agreement' caught his eye.

His expression darkened. He thought she was trying to reconcile.

Mathilda added cautiously, "Sir, Mrs. Hawk asked you to finish the coffee before signing the divorce papers."

Stanley glared at the coffee. "Throw it out! All of it!"

'Sir, you seemed to like the coffee just fine a moment ago. Why don't you anymore?' Mathilda thought to herself.

Without saying another word, she quickly left with the coffee.

Stanley’s face was a thunderstorm, his mood in turmoil. He skimmed through the divorce agreement. She wasn’t asking for a penny—she intended to leave with nothing.

Stanley scoffed coldly. It was bold of her to act like she didn’t need his money. How would a country girl like her survive without it?

It was then that his gaze landed on the reason for divorce, handwritten by Wendy herself.

"Due to my husband’s sexual dysfunction, he cannot fulfill his marital obligations."

Stanley froze, his handsome face turning completely dark.

'That damned woman!'

He grabbed his phone and dialed Wendy’s number.

The line connected, and Wendy’s voice came through clearly. "Hello?"