Chapter 7

Melody raised her head and stared at Christopher, clenching her fist. He had actually asked her, severely injured, to cook for his lover. She had underestimated him; he possessed no conscience.

“Can’t you order takeout? Restaurants deliver; you have the money,” Melody said.

Christopher pursed his lips, withdrawing his gaze from her feet. He started to reach for his phone, but Cynthia interrupted. “I want to visit Mel and cook for her. Ordering takeout feels so insincere…”

“Are you going to cook, then?” Melody asked nonchalantly.

“I’m not used to the country kitchen. I dropped a plate just now. Christopher was so worried about me,” Cynthia said, blinking innocently. “Mel, I’ll help you and pass you the ingredients. Consider this my contribution to the meal.”

Her bright smile felt forced to Melody. It seemed Cynthia intended to make Melody suffer, forcing her to cook despite her injuries.

“It’s okay. I’ll cook,” Melody said, hoping they would leave quickly. She had no desire to entertain them further.

“No, I’ll help. Let’s do it together,” Cynthia insisted, then directed Christopher. “Christopher, set the table and pour the juice.”

Cynthia orchestrated everything, behaving as the lady of the house while relegating Melody to a helper. Melody, once hurt by such dynamics, felt nothing now; only a cold detachment remained. Her heart had shattered when Christopher had left for Cynthia.

The two whispered sweetly behind Melody, who didn’t look back. Christopher, attentive to Cynthia, set the table, their affectionate interactions blatant. Cynthia spoke softly, holding Christopher's arm, a deliberate display for Melody.

Christopher quietly withdrew his hand.

“I’m sorry, Christopher. I recalled our time together and subconsciously reached for your arm,” Cynthia apologized, biting her lip.

“It’s okay,” Christopher replied.

He glanced into the kitchen, noticing Melody remained motionless, seemingly oblivious to their conversation. Cynthia then entered the kitchen, reminding Melody constantly of Christopher’s tastes and preferences as she washed ingredients. It sounded like she was instructing Melody on how to please him, and Christopher felt a surge of frustration.

“You don’t have to tell me. I’ve cooked for him for two years,” Melody retorted, knowing his preferences perfectly well.

Cynthia's supposed kindness was actually a boast about her three-year relationship with Christopher. This caused Cynthia to stare at Christopher, hurt. “I’m sorry. I forgot. Christopher must be used to your cooking.”

“That’s impossible!” Christopher interrupted, raising his voice. “Her cooking was barely acceptable; it was tasteless!”

Melody, holding the spatula, tightened her grip. Tasteless? Two years of careful meal preparation, and this was her reward. She wouldn’t argue; she'd simply consider it two wasted years on the wrong person.

Cynthia, initially sad, brightened at Christopher’s words and resumed her commanding tone.

“Why are you telling her so much? She has no right to know,” Christopher said coldly.

“I hope Mel can take good care of you in the future,” Cynthia retorted, sticking out her tongue, then added dejectedly, “There’s no hope for us. No matter who’s with you, I hope you’re happy.”

Christopher felt a pang of regret. The woman he once deeply loved stood before him, yet he was married to another.

“Let’s divorce,” Melody said indifferently, turning around.

Christopher stared, stunned.

“Cynthia will have a chance. You can live happily with her,” Melody continued calmly, meeting his gaze.

Her calm tone and aloof expression struck him as strange. Once, she had only eyes for him, her gaze full of affection. Now…

“Divorce? You tricked me into marriage! You demand a divorce now? Do you think you can order me around?” Christopher yelled, his fury and panic evident.

Melody stared at his outburst. “Don’t you like Cynthia? Marry her after we divorce.” She’d planned to raise this during the final days of their agreement, but the timing was fortuitous. She hadn't anticipated his rejection and anger.

“Don’t even think of divorcing! You’d better not even think about freedom!” Christopher warned fiercely, his gaze icy.

Melody bit her lip, sorrow filling her. He didn’t want a divorce; he wanted to keep her captive, to watch him with Cynthia.

She turned, her eyes burning. Did he truly hate her this much? Two years of devotion, and this was the result?

Cynthia watched, surprised by Christopher’s refusal and harsh words. His anger seemed to mask reluctance to let go of Melody. Fear and anger consumed her; she feared he had fallen for Melody.

“Christopher, don’t be mad. It was my fault. I said the wrong thing. I didn’t mean to break you two apart,” Cynthia said apologetically, choking back tears.