Chapter 11

Christopher slammed the door shut and marched to the kitchen. He surveyed the food he'd brought home, finding it utterly ridiculous. In a fit of anger, he tossed the food into the trash. He grabbed his phone and called someone. After several rings, the call went unanswered. Just as rage threatened to overwhelm him, he remembered Melody’s phone was—He disconnected the call. Looking cold and grim, he went to the bedroom to shower and prepare for bed.

Melody could go wherever she wanted. If she died, it was none of his business.

At 2:00 AM, Christopher woke with nausea. Irritated, he muttered angrily, “Melody, get me some hangover soup.” He glared at the still-open bedroom door, a stark reminder of his earlier outburst. He clenched his fists and went to find some medication, his annoyance growing. The steak he'd had for dinner had been too greasy. He hadn't eaten much, and he'd drunk too much wine, but his stomach was finally settling. He was also hungry. He went to the refrigerator, remembering Melody had prepared a few dishes, but found nothing inside.

He returned to the kitchen and found the countertops and cabinets completely empty. His anger fully rekindled, his body throbbed with rage. “You’re really pushing the boundaries! Who gave you the guts? Don’t you ever dare come back again!”

The next day at work, Christopher’s assistant, Sheldon Giles, sensed a terrifying shift in Christopher's mood. To avoid confrontation, he kept his distance, even while reporting his work updates.

“Buy me a phone,” Christopher said, handing over signed documents.

“What brand and model would you like?” Sheldon asked cautiously.

“Whatever,” Christopher replied impatiently.

“Any preferences for color or features…?” Sheldon ventured, but was immediately cut off.

“Didn’t I just say whatever? As long as it can make calls,” Christopher snapped.

Sheldon trembled, quickly gathering the documents and leaving. Once the door closed, he let out a long sigh of relief.

“This is so confusing. He wants to buy a phone but doesn’t care what kind. What if he doesn’t like what I get?” Sheldon muttered, shaking his head. Dealing with Christopher felt incredibly difficult.

Meanwhile, at the hospital, Melody lay in bed, her lower back still in severe pain. She'd gone to sleep early but hadn't slept well, waking repeatedly throughout the night. In the morning, she checked her phone. Christopher had called three times, but she hadn’t returned his calls. She also remembered rushing out the previous day and leaving her laptop behind, forcing her to watch lecture videos on her cracked phone screen.

That afternoon, her X-ray revealed a fractured tailbone. Melody stared at the image with an indifferent gaze. She'd been shoved to the ground and pushed. Christopher had accused her of premeditated murder the previous night, when, in fact, he was the guilty party.

The nurse applying a hot pack remarked, “If you’ve experienced domestic violence, you can seek legal aid.”

“Thank you. I will if I need to,” Melody replied, replacing the X-ray in its folder. These medical records were physical evidence. If Christopher refused a divorce, he would be guilty of domestic violence and infidelity.

That night, Christopher and Cynthia dined at a Michelin-starred restaurant.

“Christopher, you don’t have to accompany me every day. Mel will be upset,” Cynthia said softly, biting her lip. She watched as Christopher cut her steak.

“As long as you’re happy, who cares about her?” Christopher said coldly.

Cynthia’s lips curved into a faint smile before she quickly suppressed it. They clinked their wine glasses.

“Are you coming to my runway show tomorrow? I’ll get you a front-row seat,” Cynthia said shyly.

Christopher didn’t respond immediately. Cynthia looked up. “Christopher?”

He snapped back to attention. “What’s wrong?”

“What are you thinking about? You were so lost in thought,” Cynthia stated.

“Nothing,” Christopher said, pursing his lips.

“You’re not thinking about Mel, are you?” Cynthia asked, gritting her teeth.

“Of course not. I was thinking about work,” Christopher denied, his gaze averted.

Cynthia studied his expression, unconvinced. She repeated her invitation to the show.

Christopher agreed, forcing a smile as they clinked glasses again.

“Cynthia, are you okay?” Christopher asked gently, escorting her to the hotel entrance. Cynthia leaned on him, eyes closed, her arms loosely around him. She didn’t respond, passing out.

Christopher carried her to her room. He opened her bag, finding her room number. The door unlocked with a soft beep. As he placed her on the bed, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

“Cynthia,” Christopher fell onto the bed with her.

The scent of her perfume filled the air as she whispered, “Please don’t go, Christopher. Please don’t have feelings for Mel. I love you so much.”

“I don’t love her,” Christopher said, struggling to free himself, but she kissed him.

“No, you love her. You married her, and you’re going back to her…” Cynthia murmured.

Christopher’s heart screamed in denial. He didn’t love Melody! Not at all! Daniel had forced the marriage. He would never love her. But actions spoke louder than words. To prove he wasn’t returning to Melody, he held the back of Cynthia’s head and deepened the kiss.

The air grew heated as their intimacy intensified. Cynthia pulled him closer. The kiss moved from her lips to her neck and collarbone. In his mind, however, he only saw Melody’s face. He kissed Cynthia vigorously, releasing his anger.

Suddenly, a hand brushed against him. The soft touch snapped him back to reality. He stopped abruptly. Cynthia opened her eyes, dazed. Christopher sat up, looking at her with shock and irritation. He quickly moved to the edge of the bed.