Chapter 5
I cast Agnes and Nicholas a cold glance, then turned to leave.
The nineteen–year–old Agnes would never return. With her gone, I had no reason to be entangled with the twenty–seven–year- old Agnes.
But I had barely taken two steps when her voice called out.
“Frank, don’t… don’t go.”
Perhaps it was her gentle tone, one that still carried a trace of meaning in my heart, that made me pause to hear what else she had to say.
Seeing me stop, Agnes’s face lit up with relief.
“Frank, I’m sorry, I forgot. I’ll have them prepare everything again, all right? Frank, I was wrong. Please forgive me.”
Yet her words only struck me as laughable. Even as she apologized, her fingers remained twined with Nicholas’s.
Perhaps noticing my gaze, she suddenly seemed to realize and hurriedly let go of his hand. She took a step as if to chase after me, but Nicholas caught her arm and whispered something. She froze where she stood.
I didn’t bother to see what she said or did next. The moment the nineteen–year–old Agnes vanished, all ties between us were severed.
Back home, I lay in bed, tossing restlessly.
If I were honest, to end a relationship like this left me unsettled, no matter how much I tried to act indifferent. A hollow ache lingered in my chest.
After a while, I suddenly remembered that the divorce papers were still unsigned. Sitting up, I got out of bed and put my name down at the bottom of the agreement. Tomorrow, I’d call my lawyer.
The rest I would leave entirely in his hands. Agnes had more money now; as long as I didn’t claim a cent of her assets, the divorce would be simple enough.
With that thought, I sank into my chair, feeling drained.
On the desk sat a framed photo of us. Back then, whenever exhaustion crushed me and I felt I had no strength left, I would quietly take comfort in that picture.
In it, we wore nothing expensive, no dazzling clothes, no gleaming jewelry–just simple, clean attire.
And yet, life had been beautiful.
Now we were wealthy, able to do everything we once only dreamed of. But our love lay shattered.
1/2
Chapter 5
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This villa had been designed exactly as Agnes once imagined. A warm bedroom in soft shades of orange. A spacious, minimalist living room. Every detail had been chosen with care.
But once the villa was ours, her visits grew rare.
Work had always been her excuse, and I accepted it. But even on her off days, she spent them with Nicholas.
For so long, I believed she was too busy, that I had to be understanding. Now I saw the truth–she had plenty of time for life. It was simply a life that no longer included me.
The thought of all the years I had risen before dawn, worked myself to exhaustion, never truly rested–it suddenly left me with a
strange clarity.
“That’s right,” I muttered. “Why am I still sitting here? I’ve got money now. I should be out enjoying myself.”
I decisively booked a flight leaving in two hours.
In less than half an hour, I had packed, arranged everything, and driven off without hesitation.
Before leaving, I changed the passcode to the villa.
Agnes had no shortage of places to stay. She had no need of this house.
But no sooner had I gone than she staggered up to the villa’s door, reeking of alcohol.
Her steps were unsteady—she had clearly drunk far too much.
Again and again, she punched numbers into the keypad.
Each time, the lock flashed back the same response: incorrect password.
“Did I… remember it wrong? I’ve tried every code I could think
of…”
Not interesting at all
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