How dreary! How ridiculous!
I could not help but snigger, with him in my sight. A faint smirk curled up the corner of my mouth.
He glanced at me, his eyes darkened once again as he lowered his head and kissed me. “Say my name!” he called.
I pursed my lips and tilted my head to one side. I closed my eyes, refusing to see him.
His thin lips hovered at my ear, his voice softened a little as he repeated, “Scarlett, say my name!”
I said nothing. My mind was forming a plan to escape. I deserved to make him wait for me to tell him personally that I cared about him, that I loved him, and that I wanted him.
But I could not bring myself to tell him. Over the years, I had buried so much in my heart, including his coming to Rebecca’s defense time and time again, his never-ending care towards that woman, and the harm he had caused me so nonchalantly and in so many ways.
I had suppressed so much of that. Over time, those frustrations began to take root, multiply, and became more and more intense.
Love could not be that all-forgiving. In the highly selective social circle, anyone could be tolerated. Anyone could fit.
“Ashton, let’s file for divorce!” I said it, not on impulse or out of anger, but after putting in considerable thought.
He stiffened. I pushed him aside. Then I grabbed my clothes to cover myself, though just barely, all the while showing little emotion.
“Are you serious?” he exclaimed. His dark eyes fell on me, looking extremely tense.
I pursed my lips and nodded. Then, I gazed into his dark eyes as I explained it to him. “Let’s just calm down and think this through. Perhaps it was a mistake right from the start. What Grandpa considers as ‘a good match’ might not resonate with our definition of it. My feelings for you at the beginning might not have been love at all, but admiration. Your feelings for me, on the other hand, might just be guilt accumulated over time by your neglect towards me.
There was no love between us, only bits and pieces here and there that were combined together to resemble something like it.
When he spoke, the gloom on his face resembled a dark cloud that had been accumulating droplets for some time now. “Not love!”
It seemed like he said that out loud for himself to hear. In the days that followed, I kept thinking about the many couples in the world. How many of them stayed together through a lifetime of responsibilities just because they were made for each other, and how did these so-called couples who claimed they love each other spend the rest of their lives together? First comes lust, then comes love. Perhaps, there never was such a thing called love, and everything else was just an excuse for our own consolation.
He forced me into a corner, a ruthless sneer crossing his face. “What do you know about love? Tell me, what does love mean to you? You keep talking about divorce. You make it sound like it’s such a trivial matter. Do you think just because I spoil you, because I protect you, that I deserve your abuse?”
I lowered my gaze. My legs gave way as I slumped onto the floor, still leaning against the cold, hard wall. Hugging my knees, I said, “The woman whom you love, spoil, and protect is currently lying on a bed in the hospital.”
“Ho!” he scoffed. “You just have to bring that up, don’t you? You just have to force me to give up on Rebecca, to prove that I love you? Scarlett, you are one horrible woman. Why must you take things to the extreme?”
I pressed my lips as I stared at my toes, before looking up at him. “You only realize that now?”
He smirked with disdain. “And what about you? You fill your heart with someone that’s already dead, and then you’re quite willing to throw your life away to chase after a shadow. What does that make you?”
I calmed down and stared back at him. “Since we have our own hurdles, then we might as well file for divorce. I don’t want anything from the Fullers. Grandpa transferred HiTech to my name, I can transfer that to you. I don’t want your house or your car. Luckily, we don’t have any children. Since we agree that this is a huge mistake, we can get a divorce now and start over. It’s not too late.”
“Screw this!” Ashton violently knocked over the table lamp beside him. It fell to the ground. Still fuming, he roared at me, “What do you mean ‘not too late’? You’re the one who can’t let go of the past. What’s that got to do with me?”
I was exhausted. I felt like I was trapped in a dead-end, with no way to get out.
Ashton’s temper seemed to have reached its limit. I could not tell which statement was spoken out of anger and which one was for real.
I pushed him away, stood up against the wall, and said, “I’ll move out and live on my own for a while until both of us have calmed down. And then, we can discuss the divorce.”
Yet he held me down again, his thin lips pressed against the corners of my mouth. They lingered, and then, in a voice that sounded restrained, he asked me, “Have you ever loved me?”
I bit my lips, my heart aching as though it had just taken a bad hit. Even breathing became difficult. “Does it matter?”
“It does!” He kissed me, and continued in a depressed mood, “After we divorce, is there still a chance between us? No?”
I pursed my lips. “No!” Who in the world would file for divorce, only to end up together again? Since people file for divorce because they fall out of love, it’s only natural that they won’t fall for each other again.
“Ha!” he snickered. “Then why should I agree to that?”
He bit my lips again, his eyes filled with bloodlust and a tinge of coldness. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t love me. I’ll give you time. One day you’ll surely fall for me. You’d better forget about Marcus. I don’t care if he’s dead or alive. Either way, I won’t let you be with him. Scarlett, you belong to me, and only me!”
He grabbed his clothes and swiftly put them on before throwing a cold glance at me. “Stay put!”
