Chapter 3

Sienna's POV

Walking to the door of the ward, I peered through the cracked opening. Vivian Locke was sitting by the bedside, holding sliced apples and feeding them to Julian piece by piece.

He leaned against the headboard, and though his face was still a bit pale, he showed no resistance whatsoever, even slightly leaning forward to cooperate whenever she offered a slice.

My fingers clenched instinctively.

I remembered how every single time I tried to get close to him—even if it was just to adjust his collar—he would subtly shift away to avoid me.

As it turned out, it wasn't that he disliked being touched; he just disliked being touched by me.

Whether someone loves you or not is truly painfully obvious.

Just as I was about to knock, Vivian spotted me first and stood up in a flurry.

"Ms. Stone, you're here..." Vivian said, looking rather awkward. "I'll let you two talk. I'll go ask the doctor about Julian's condition."

Vivian turned to leave, but Julian reached out and caught her by the wrist.

"Didn't the doctor just make his rounds not too long ago?" he said in a flat tone. "There's no need to make up excuses to avoid anyone. This is a hospital, not the Stone family's territory."

Vivian cast a hesitant look at me. "But..."

"No buts," Julian interrupted. "Just sit down."

Vivian hesitated for a moment but ultimately sat back down. "Okay."

My eyes fell upon Julian's hand holding Vivian's wrist.

Those distinct knuckles and long, powerful fingers had never once held me that way.

In the past, I probably would have rushed in, flung that hand away, and slapped Vivian Locke across the face.

But this time, I didn't.

I didn't even make a scene.

"What are you doing here?" Julian finally cast his cold gaze toward me, his tone indifferent. "If you think I'm not hurt badly enough, I can do it again."

Stung by his words, I couldn't help but ask, "Would you really rather harm yourself like that than spare me a proper glance?"

Julian's reply was heartless and cold. "I thought you were well aware before we got married that I didn't love you."

He paused, then added, "I didn't love you then, I don't love you now, and I never will. So, how do you expect me to spare you a glance?"

I clenched my fingers. "Since you believed you could never fall in love with me, why did you marry me in the first place?"

Julian laughed, his chuckle exceptionally cold.

"My mother was critically ill back then and urgently needed a massive sum of money for surgery. You used that moment to force me into marriage. Did I have a choice?"

Just as I was about to speak, he continued.

"Besides, on the eve of our wedding, it wasn't as if I didn't try to have a proper talk with you.

"Back then, I told you I didn't love you. I told you that you wouldn't be happy marrying me, and that it wasn't too late to back out if you regretted it. I said I'd treat that surgery money as a loan and pay you back with interest later."

　　His gaze was as cold as frost.

　　"But how did you answer me then? You said if I dared to back out, you'd immediately withdraw the funds and stop the surgery. You used my mother's life to threaten me. Did I have a choice back then?"

　　I was left speechless.

　　I did indeed say those words.

　　At the time, I was so swept up in the joy of marrying him, terrified that he would back out and that the grand wedding I had meticulously planned would fall through, which was why I said it.

　　I never imagined that those words would remain carved into his heart for seven years.

　　Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward, pulled a document out of my bag, and placed it on the nightstand beside his hospital bed.

　　"Then please do me a favor and sign this divorce agreement."

　　Catching sight of the document, a flash of poorly concealed joy lit up Vivian's eyes.

　　As for Julian Vance, he froze.

　　He glanced at the agreement, then looked up at me. "You want a divorce?"

　　"Yes."

　　Julian scoffed instinctively. "Do you think I was injured so badly this time that I've lost my mind? Or are you being foolish enough to think I'd believe such nonsense about you wanting a divorce?"

　　He stared at me with sharp eyes. "We've been married for seven years, and you couldn't bring yourself to divorce me. Just because I stabbed myself twice, you're suddenly willing to let me go?"

　　For the past seven years, he had used the cold shoulder and silent treatment to push me away, hoping I would reach my breaking point and ask for a divorce first.

　　Yet I had stubbornly endured it all, never bringing it up once.

　　Now that he had resorted to self-harm and stabbed himself twice, I was suddenly willing to walk away. It was only natural that he didn't believe me.

　　"I'm willing to divorce because I realize you were right," I said calmly. "A forced marriage won't bring happiness."

　　Hearing this, Julian suddenly went still.

　　I smiled bitterly to myself. When he had said those words all those years ago, how had I responded?

　　I had arrogantly declared, "Who cares about happiness? Let's get married first and figure that out later."

　　I had also said, "Even death won't tear us apart. Don't even dream of divorcing me or shaking me off in this lifetime."

　　But now, I knew a forced marriage wouldn't bring happiness.

　　And I was going to divorce him.

　　I saw a flicker of a strange emotion pass through Julian's eyes.