Those who don't love me, I don't want them anymore

I stepped forward and gently picked up the coffee cup on the table.

“The temperature’s just right,” I said, handing it to him with a faint

smile. “Don’t let it get cold.”

In that moment, I looked exactly like the woman I had been five years

ago—

obedient, quiet, considerate.

Only this time, my heart was empty.

“I…” He started, his tone laced with something complicated. “Maybe you

should get some rest.”

I nodded.

“All right.”

I set down the cup and walked toward the door.

My shadow stretched long in the morning light spilling through the

window.

“Lucas,” I said softly, stopping in my tracks. My voice was so light it

almost dissolved into the air.

“Five years ago, I saved your life.”

He froze.

“But now,” I continued, “it’s time I saved my own.”

The door closed behind me, and I heard him take a long, heavy breath.

Nova leaned toward him, her voice a whisper, tinged with amusement.

“Don’t mind me. I’m just jealous.”

I didn’t look back.

Sunlight poured through the glass window, falling across the back of my

hand.

The scar there still burned faintly—

a mark left from the day I signed the surgery consent form five years

ago.

A seal that would never heal.

Kendall—

her smile faltered, cracking at the corners. My words had stolen

whatever composure she had left.

Lucas stood beside her, brow furrowed, his expression outwardly calm,

yet betraying a trace of unease.

The air hung silent for several seconds.

The kettle in the kitchen kept boiling softly.

While they said nothing, I untied my apron, turned around, and left.

My footsteps were light, yet carried a weight of finality I hadn’t felt

in years.

Back in the bedroom, I leaned against the door and took a deep breath.

The divorce would take effect in a week.

Seven days—

after that, I would no longer be Mrs. Lucas.

I picked up my phone and scrolled through rental listings, one after

another.

Old apartments on the edge of town, single rooms, shared flats…

Each title looked like an escape route, a map leading out of this life.

Just then, Lucas’s voice came from outside the door—low, cold.

“I’m going to the office this afternoon. Kendall will stay here. My body

hasn’t fully recovered—you’ll take care of me.”

I looked up, my tone so even it barely carried emotion.

“Take care of you? Are you sure I’m your maid… or your nurse?”

He hadn’t expected me to answer that way. His face changed slightly.

“Have you forgotten,” he said after a pause, voice heavy with warning,

“who allows you to still live here?”

That familiar note of threat—low, deliberate—

sank between us like the echo of a locked door.

I gave a small, tired smile. “I haven’t forgotten. But I also remember

the doctor saying that day—

I nearly went into cardiac failure saving you.”

He froze, a flicker of stiffness flashing through his features.

It was the one memory he could never bear to face.

“Don’t bring that up again,” he said coldly. “You saved me, and I gave

you five years of life.”

I lifted my head. For the first time, there was no fear in my eyes.

“Five years?” I said quietly. “That wasn’t life. It was imprisonment.”

For a moment, he couldn’t speak.

His expression twisted—part anger, part guilt—

but the flicker of remorse vanished almost instantly.

“When I’m gone,” he muttered, his voice sinking into a low, restrained

growl,

“don’t cause trouble. If anything happens to Kendall…”

He paused.

“You know the consequences.”

Then he bent down and kissed Kendall on the forehead.

That scene—

one I had imagined in countless dreams—

was never meant to belong to anyone else.

The door closed.

He was gone.