A Weight She Refused to Carry

After their conversation, Shermaine quickly made an excuse to rest and left the room with swift steps.

Ezra watched her retreating figure, his mind replaying the strange look she had given him moments ago.

A wave of unease washed over him, but he quickly pushed the feeling aside.

Ezra was certain that Shermaine loved him deeply, that even that cold, aloof woman would get jealous.

A few years ago, if he had even exchanged a few words with one of his assistants, Shermaine would sulk for days, ignoring him completely.

If she had discovered what was going on between him and Melanie, she wouldn't be so cold. He was confident that, with her love for him, she would have reacted very differently.

His phone buzzed again. It was another message from Melanie, begging him to take her to his house.

Ezra's handsome face darkened, and just as he was about to lash out in anger, a new message from Melanie appeared on the screen.

The message contained a provocative picture—on a white bedspread, she wore a sexy outfit with black stockings, posing suggestively.

Melanie had a sweet, innocent face but a body that was intoxicating, like a poppy—addictive and dangerous.

Ezra didn't send the scolding message he had been preparing.

Instead, he swallowed hard before speaking in a low, husky voice as he recorded a reply, "Melanie, I'll agree, but just this once. After this, you need to understand your place. You shouldn't interrupt my life with Shermaine."

When Shermaine was discharged from the hospital, she realized with a shock that she only had a few days before she had to report to the research institute.

Back at home, Ezra had done exactly what he had promised—he had decorated the house ahead of time.

It was filled with all of her favorite things—plants, pink balloons, and cartoon characters.

Instead of the cold and aloof version of him that everyone knew, Ezra was acting like a child, constantly asking her, "Shermaine, do you like it? Is there anything you don't like? Just tell me and I'll fix it."

For the first time in a while, Shermaine smiled. Ezra, thrilled by her reaction, immediately moved in to kiss her.

Just as their lips were about to meet, Shermaine gently pushed him away.

"I need to freshen up first."

She quickly made her way to the bathroom, the smile fading from her face. Her eyes became empty, tired.

When she looked up, her gaze fell on something out of place on the countertop—a small bottle of cosmetics that wasn't hers.

The sample had clearly been used quite a bit, meaning its owner had been staying here for a few days.

That wasn't all. As Shermaine stood there, her senses sharpened. A sickly sweet perfume lingered in the air, and she realized with a jolt that it wasn't her scent—she didn't wear perfume.

Shermaine stood there for what felt like forever, tears falling without warning.

She had never imagined that her life would be in such shambles.

Shermaine wasn't naive—she knew this was all Melanie's doing. It was a deliberate provocation, a declaration of possession.

Shermaine quickly regained her composure and opened the bathroom door. Then she grabbed two bottles of red wine and went to find Ezra.

Pretending like nothing was wrong, she smiled sweetly at him.

"Ezra, how about we have a drink tonight?"

Ezra didn't answer immediately, likely still deciding whether to meet with Melanie later.

But Shermaine's unexpected gentleness softened his heart, and he agreed.

A few glasses of wine later, Ezra, normally able to hold his liquor, had flushed cheeks. He clung to Shermaine, repeating over and over how much he loved her.

Shermaine, calm and collected, pulled out the divorce papers from her bag. In a gentle tone, she coaxed him.

"Ezra, I love you too. Come on. Be a good boy and sign the papers."

Ezra, like a puppet with no will of its own, complied.

Once he had signed the divorce agreement, Shermaine stood up slowly, showing no mercy. With a gentle push, she sent the dazed Ezra tumbling to the floor.

Shermaine smiled as tears blurred her vision.

She retrieved the prepared gift box and began placing one item after another inside.

One, two, three, four, five...

Each piece was neatly arranged before the box was packaged nicely.

She gazed down at the unconscious Ezra on the floor, her eyes devoid of warmth.

With a light voice, she spoke, "Ezra, don't blame me. I'm just returning the favor. You could drug me—why couldn't I do the same?"