Chapter 2

Trisha hadn't expected Cyril to return so soon. But in this relationship, she had always been the one in control. So, she didn't bother hiding anything and calmly said, "We're not getting married anymore. What about it?" Upon seeing the indifferent expression on her face, Cyril thought she was just throwing one of her usual tantrums. Thus, he didn't take her seriously. He took off his coat and said coldly, "You were the one who insisted on getting married, and now you're calling it off? What's your problem this time?" He glanced around at the people waiting stiffly in the room and randomly pointed. "We'll take that one." Trisha turned to where he pointed and saw the gown he had picked. It just so happened to be the one she liked best from a video she had seen a few days ago. Though surprised, she didn't think too much of it. She simply looked at him and asked, "What did you do today?" Cyril lied without batting an eye, "I was busy with work. Don't worry. I haven't forgotten my promise of doing it once a day." As he spoke, he bent down and scooped her up, intending to carry her back to the bedroom. But Trisha, unusually, pushed him away. "Let's put a pause on it for a while. You can sleep in the guest room tonight." Cyril paused, and disbelief flickered in his eyes as if he was really seeing her for the first time. "You were always the one begging for it before." Trisha smiled self-deprecatingly. "Didn't you always say you can't force something that isn't meant to be?" Cyril's gaze darkened slightly. After a moment, he set her down. "Suit yourself." With that, he went upstairs without looking back and shut himself in the guest room. The next morning, Trisha woke up early. A household staff brought her coffee and casually reported on Cyril's whereabouts. "Mr. Decker went out early for a workout. Do you want to wait for him for breakfast?" Trisha shook her head. "I'm heading out later. No need to wait for him." After breakfast, Trisha drove off to finalize her permanent residency paperwork, then stopped at an open-air café with a scenic view to relax. She scrolled through her phone for a while, and when she looked up again, she saw Cyril. He was being pulled into a café downstairs by Anna. After ordering two drinks, he specifically requested that one be served hot. Anna whined and said she wanted hers cold, but he simply stroked her hair with a helpless smile. "No, you're on your period, so only hot drinks for you." Of course, he would remember something like that since they were childhood sweethearts. Trisha stared at them without blinking. When Anna's shoelaces came undone, Cyril kneeled to tie them for her. When she wanted a sip of his drink, he handed it over without hesitation. When she squealed over a dress in the display window, he took her inside to try it on. While watching them stroll around like a young couple on a date, Trisha felt like she was finally seeing the real Cyril for the first time. So this was what he was like when he loved someone. He wasn't always cold and distant—he would smile, joke, and look at her fondly even when she was being silly. He didn't keep his distance or act indifferent. He remembered her preferences and even helped her match clothes when shopping. He never said anything to kill the mood. No matter what random topic she brought up, he could always pick up the thread and keep the conversation going. In front of Anna, he shed that carefully constructed cold exterior and became himself again—the version that was full of energy and capable of loving someone deeply. And that was someone Trisha had never seen when they were together. She finally understood that between love and its absence, there was an insurmountable divide. And no amount of money could ever bridge that gap.