Chapter 8

Peter got out of bed with Melanie's help, staring at Frost coldly. "It's just a watch. You can't even stand that?" Frost stared right at Melanie. Her gaze darted in another direction as she hid behind Peter in a frightened manner. This only made him look even colder. "What? Are you trying to throw your weight around again?" Frost only found the whole thing absurd. In that instant, she lost all desire to communicate. After taking a long look at Peter, she replied calmly, "If you're going to accuse me of anything, back up with evidence." The anger Peter was holding back finally exploded. He grabbed her right hand and yanked the emerald bracelet off her wrist. "Peter!" Frost cried out in alarm. "This is the bracelet your mother gave you, isn't it?" he asked coldly, then hurled it to the floor. The bracelet shattered into pieces, and Frost felt her voice shatter with it. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Peter returned to the bed and ordered without looking up, "Sweep the floor and flush the trash down the toilet." Only after the toilet was flushed three times did he signal the people holding Frost to release her. Frost stood there, locking gazes with him from across the room. She rubbed the aching bones in her right hand and said softly, "Peter, I've never regretted any decision I made in my life. No matter how hard it gets, I always walk the path that I chose. "With you, I truly regret everything, though. I regret marrying you, and even regret spending three sleepless days mobilizing specialists to save your life. Why didn't I just stop the treatment? I was such a fool." Peter looked at her quietly, as if she were just a dull painting. It was his usual dismissive attitude. Frost let out a faint, bitter laugh before shaking her head. She steadied herself against the wall as she walked toward the door. Then, she said one last thing to him, "We can finally get our divorce after today. We'll sign the divorce papers at 10:00 am at the courthouse tomorrow. Don't be late." … The next day, Peter arrived as promised. He signed the papers without hesitation, then stood up and looked at her. "If you think divorce is a way to manipulate me, you're wrong. There will be no reconciliation once we're really divorced. It's up to you to sign this or not." Peter left without turning back after saying those words. Frost calmly took the pen and pressed down hard, signing it so forcefully that the ink nearly tore through the paper. When she walked out after the divorce was finalized, a flashy sports car was already waiting by the curb. The man in the driver's seat was dressed up even flashier than his car. He whistled at her. "Honey, your fiery lover is ready." … The living room was piled with packed boxes. As Frost led Harvey Jameson inside, she said casually, "Have the movers send these to Peter's parents' place." Then, she led him upstairs to her room. She thought that she might finally release all the pent-up emotions she'd been suppressing for years if she could be physically intimate with another man. But in truth, she felt nothing. Harvey, pinned beneath her, joked, "Darling, if you keep touching me with that blank look, you're gonna kill the mood. You got a premium subscription, so no need to rush to get your money's worth. What you need right now is a good night's sleep." So, they really did just sleep on the brand new bed. Frost felt like the past five years of her life had been one endless marathon. She had been running in circles, only to end up right back where she started. Now that she'd finally stopped, even one day of rest wasn't enough. She slept for an entire week, barely leaving her room. Harvey stayed with her the whole time. … Meanwhile, Peter had been on a business trip abroad. The day he returned, the driver, unaware that his employer was now divorced, drove back to their marital home as usual. Peter stood in the courtyard for two minutes, finished his cigarette, and entered with his fingerprint. When he went in, he noticed that the housekeeper looked at him with a strange expression. He asked, "Where's Frost? Is she still throwing a tantrum?" The housekeeper hesitated, stammering, "She's resting…" Peter grunted in acknowledgment and, out of habit, changed into the lounge slippers, though the size didn't quite fit. After washing his hands in the bathroom, he started up the stairs. It was only when the housekeeper tried to stop him that suspicion started to take root. He walked up the stairs and pushed open the bedroom door, only to see an unfamiliar half-naked man sprawled lazily on the bed, holding a scantily-clad Frost in his arms.