Chapter 2

Jessica's POV

I stayed at the hospital for a long time before my mother's urging made me go home.

The living room lights were off, and a strong smell of whiskey hit me.

By the moonlight filtering through the window, I saw Maddox's tall frame slumped in the sofa, already passed out drunk.

His brows were tightly furrowed, and a few indistinct syllables unconsciously escaped his thin lips.

I took a few steps closer and heard clearly.

"Tessa… don't leave…"

The voice was hoarse, painful yet lingering.

My heart gave a sharp twist, as if something had violently wrung it.

I once thought Maddox was inherently cold, a lofty deity whose emotions wouldn't be swayed by anyone.

It turned out this iceberg wasn't incapable of melting; it was just that the sun that could melt him was never me.

Over the years, taking care of him had almost become second nature.

I bent down, laboriously helped him up, gritted my teeth, and, supporting him, shuffled him step by step towards the second floor.

After we married, Maddox gave me the spacious, comfortable master bedroom and moved into the guest room.

Yet, the distance across the hall felt like a thousand miles.

The guest room door was, as usual, tightly closed and locked. I paused in front of it, hesitating.

I had never been allowed to set foot in Maddox's room, but now that the woman he loved was back, he probably wanted to be in the same room with me even less.

I finally used his fingerprint to unlock it.

A soft "beep," and the door slowly opened.

As the light fell and revealed the scene before me, I froze, my mind blank.

The bedroom was covered wall-to-wall with Tessa's photos and portraits.

On the walls, on the cabinets, even on the ceiling… frames of all sizes displayed Tessa's bright smiles and various moments of her life I'd never seen.

But what truly made my scalp crawl was the life-sized custom-made doll of Tessa, dressed in silk pajamas, quietly propped against the headboard of the large bed in the center of the room.

Perhaps returning to his familiar private space, Maddox's consciousness cleared a bit.

He abruptly pushed away my supporting hand with such force that I stumbled and crashed into the doorframe.

Maddox didn't even glance at me. He staggered to the bed and, like a devout believer seeking salvation, expertly pulled the doll tightly into his arms.

He rubbed his cheek against the doll's cold hair with yearning, the discomfort of his drunkenness gradually replaced by a mesmerizing sense of satisfaction and deep affection. He murmured, "Tessa… my Tessa…"

I clamped my hand over my mouth, desperate to stifle the gasp that threatened to escape.

The sight before me was so eerie it sent shivers down my spine.

I could almost imagine how, on countless nights when I lay alone in the next room, Maddox was here, with these photos, this doll, channeling the twisted, fervent desires he couldn't express to the real person.

A wave of intense nausea violently surged from my stomach.

I couldn't stay another second. I turned and rushed back to my bedroom.

As soon as I locked the door, I collapsed by the sink, retching uncontrollably until my stomach was empty, leaving only bitter bile.

It took a while for me to emerge from the bathroom, my gaze unconsciously falling on the wedding photo on the bedside table.

That was the only picture Maddox and I had together.

Ten years ago, as a scholarship student supported by Grandfather Miller, I first stepped into the Miller home – and that was also my first meeting with Maddox.

My nervousness and awkwardness left me flustered, and a sudden period only made things worse.

A small, embarrassing red stain appeared on my light-blue pants, strikingly visible, making me want to disappear.

It was that dazzling young man, silent as the stars, who took off his designer jacket and, with natural ease, tied it around my waist, covering the mess.

He bent slightly, and in a voice only we could hear, gently said, "Don't be scared, it's okay. Only I saw it, but I have a bad memory, I'll forget it soon."

The flutter in my heart at that moment was clear and intense.

Later, I accepted the Miller family's sponsorship, transferred to his private school, and studied desperately, only to be closer to him, just a little closer.

I helped him with his studies, took care of his daily needs, like a sunflower, humbly turning towards his light, yet never daring to get too close, afraid of annoying him.

Until Grandfather Miller found me again, saying Maddox had developed aphasia due to an accident, his emotions highly unstable, and hoping I could stay by his side as his wife for three years.

No matter the outcome, after three years, I could choose whether to stay or leave.

I hadn't intended to agree, but then, Maddox actually sent me a SnapChat message, proposing.

That line on the screen, "Let's get married," filled me with wild joy, foolishly believing he might reciprocate a tiny bit of my feelings.

Now, it seemed it was merely a forced compromise under his grandfather's immense pressure.

I looked at the photo of my younger self, eyes full of light, and quietly said, "Jessica, you were so foolish."