Chapter 4

It was already 11:00 PM when Melody arrived home. She left the living room lights off; Christopher would likely be out with Cynthia and wouldn't be returning. She retrieved the first-aid kit and, enduring the pain, slowly made her way to her small bedroom.

They had been married for two years, but their union was in name only. Christopher had been saving himself for his "true love," and wouldn't allow Melody near the master bedroom. She considered this fortunate; otherwise, she would be utterly disgusted now.

She briefly sterilized her elbow and feet before applying medicine. Lacking the energy to put away the kit, she left it on the bedside table, intending to tidy up later. She changed into pajamas and lay down. The pain in her tailbone made her gasp as she moved. She settled slowly, closed her eyes, and soon drifted off to sleep.

Just as Melody fell asleep, Christopher was driving Cynthia back to her hotel.

"Christopher, could you take me to my room?" Cynthia asked coquettishly from the passenger seat, her voice hinting at something more.

Christopher, however, ignored her, his gaze fixed on the car's screen. He felt frustrated and furious; it was his twentieth unanswered call. Cynthia, noticing his silence and unwavering focus on the screen, glanced at the number displayed. She recognized it, though there was no identifying information.

Checking her messages, she compared the number to one she'd sent Melody. It was the same. A flicker of jealousy crossed her eyes as she gritted her teeth.

They arrived at the hotel. As the car stopped, Cynthia said, "Christopher, we haven't seen each other in two years. Could you at least walk me to my room?" She placed her hand on his, her fingertip subtly tracing his sleeve.

Christopher understood the implication. He looked at her hand, then withdrew his own. He exited the car and opened her door.

"Go on ahead," he said. "I'm looking for Melody. She isn't answering her phone."

Cynthia met his gaze, biting her lip, a hurt expression on her face. "Have you fallen in love with Melody? Why do you care so much? You've been calling her ever since my leg was treated," she asked, her eyes brimming with tears.

Christopher denied it instantly. "How could I? I'd never fall for someone who's harmed you." He explained, "I'm worried she'll complain to my grandfather, and he'll make things difficult for you again." His explanation seemed plausible.

Cynthia smiled through her tears, sensing that Christopher still loved her. "I'll only believe you if you kiss me," she said sweetly.

Christopher stared at her, his lips pursed. Cynthia put her arms around his neck, prepared for a kiss, but he only gave her a peck on the forehead.

Dissatisfied, she leaned in for a proper kiss, but he avoided her. "Christopher, you…" Tears welled up again. "You don't love me anymore. Do you still hate me for leaving you? You knew I was innocent. Your grandfather—"

"You're overthinking," Christopher interrupted, pushing her gently away. "We're outside a hotel, in public. The paparazzi could see us."

Feeling rejected, Cynthia wondered how to win back his affections. Had he truly fallen for Melody?

Meanwhile, Christopher got back in the car. Looking at the sadly weeping Cynthia, he said, "I'll pick you up for lunch tomorrow. You must be tired. Get some rest."

"Okay," she replied thoughtfully. "See you tomorrow. Drive safe. I love you."

Christopher's lips moved, but he couldn't utter the words. He merely nodded and drove away. I love you too, he thought. He could have said it countless times to Cynthia before, but now, it felt difficult, perhaps because of their two-year separation.

Cynthia watched the car go, clenching her fist. A glint of malice and determination flickered in her eyes.

Christopher called Melody again while driving, his frustration mounting as he pressed the accelerator, nearly exceeding the speed limit. After leaving the hospital, he'd searched the area but couldn't find her, assuming she'd gone home.

He pulled into the garage and took the elevator up. Unlocking the door, he expected to see the living room lights on, but it was completely dark. No matter how late he arrived, Melody always left a light on, sleeping on the couch if necessary, and preparing a hangover remedy. This was the first time in two years the living room was dark. His immediate thought was that she wasn't home.

Switching on the lights, he saw Melody's shoes by the door. A pair of slippers was missing. She was home.

Why the darkness? Why the unanswered calls? Fury consumed him. Before even changing shoes, he stormed to the guest room and rattled the doorknob. Unable to open it, he slammed against the door, shouting, "Melody Smith, get out! Have you forgotten your place after being Mrs. Fuller for two years? What right do you have to be so arrogant?"