Chapter 3 Love, Betrayal, And Resolve

• Diana sat motionless, her grip tightening around her phone. Absolute silence filled her mind—she couldn't hear anything from the other side. Richard must have covered the microphone to shield their conversation.
• Even now, she knew he was trying to save her dignity, sparing her from humiliation. And yet, that thoughtfulness, that unyielding gentleness—it broke Diana in ways words couldn't.
• Her lips curled into a bitter smile.
• Enough of this so-called compassion. Enough of this false kindness.
• "Take care of yourself. You’re not feeling well today... rest early." Richard's voice made its way back to her. It sounded hurried, rushed—even restrained—before the call ended abruptly.
• The cold, disconnected tone blared in her ear like an unending echo. But beneath the hasty attempt to mask his surroundings, Diana still caught fragments of what lay in the background—Freya Desmond’s sweet, teasing voice: "Do you think jade suits me?... Let’s have dinner together."
• It struck Diana like a blow to the chest. On their second wedding anniversary, her husband wasn’t by her side—instead, he was with another woman. Helping her bathe. Adorning her with gifts. The absurdity stung; the irony suffocated.
• She could hardly believe it—Freya Desmond had returned.
• She had truly come back.
• Her mere presence a silent declaration of sovereignty.
• Two years ago, Freya was victorious. Then, she disappeared without warning, leaving behind a battlefield Diana thought she might finally claim. But Freya had returned when she pleased and, with a single step, reclaimed everything as if she’d never been gone.
• Compared to Freya, Diana was forever the one left behind—the one picking up fragments of someone else's life. How foolish she had been to believe that a mere pregnancy certificate could secure Richard’s heart.
• She shuddered at the thought of handing him the test results that morning. Resentment churned within—how close she had come to degrading herself in such a pitiful way.
• Straightening her back, Diana steeled herself. No more tears. No more looking back. If Richard had abandoned her so unfeelingly, then she would take it in stride—with dignity and a resolute spirit that no one could diminish.
• Quietly reheating the leftover breakfast dishes on the stove, she ate them all. This was the life she had chosen to protect—not for him, but for the growing child inside her.
• Her resolve solidified. From this day forward, Diana would live for her baby. She would no longer waver or compromise herself for anyone.
• Later that evening, just as exhaustion pulled her toward sleep, her phone rang again. The caller ID displayed Tristan Paul’s name, leaving her puzzled as she answered.
• "Richard's been in a car accident," he announced bluntly from the other end. "Come to the hospital."
• Diana’s heart raced as confusion clouded her thoughts. A car accident? Her husband had been spending the night with Freya just hours ago—how did things escalate so suddenly?
• Without hesitation, she tossed on clean clothes and rushed out into the crisp night air. The hospital address Tristan had mentioned earlier became her sole focus.
• When Diana arrived, only Tristan occupied the waiting area. His long legs were crossed awkwardly over one another as he lounged on a chair, every movement betraying exhaustion. Stray hair fell messily over his face, complementing minor scratches and his loosened tie—but even in such disarray, his composure and striking presence remained unshaken.
• One couldn’t deny it—this world seemed to favor those alike in stature and elegance. Even Richard’s lawyer carried himself with an air too perfect to ignore.
• "Where’s Richard?" Diana’s voice trembled but carried urgency.
• Tristan looked up at her indifferently, though weariness filtered through his features. "He’s inside getting bandaged," he responded dryly. "It's nothing too severe—a cut on his forehead from hitting the steering wheel. He’ll need follow-ups tomorrow for concussion screening."
• Diana exhaled shakily and patted her chest in relief. "How did he end up with you? Wasn’t he supposed to meet Freya tonight?"
• The tension in Tristan’s posture tightened visibly at her words. Like a wolf provoked by firelight, his cold gaze flashed with irritation.
• "So you knew," he accused sharply. "You knew your husband was out with another woman—and yet this is all you have to say?"
• Diana cast a fleeting glance at him. Everyone knew that Tristan was openly pursuing Freya.
• But what did that have to do with her? Why was he directing his anger at her of all people?
• Still, she patiently inquired about Richard's condition.
• Tristan began explaining how things unfolded. The plan had been simple: the two of them were supposed to meet at the hotel to welcome Freya. Yet, for reasons unknown, Richard had abruptly called him in a rush, demanding he drive overnight to another city to finalize a contract.
• An argument erupted between them during the trip, escalating to a tussle for the steering wheel, which ultimately resulted in their car crashing into the safety island. Tristan emerged completely unscathed, while Richard sustained minor injuries. The doctor assured them it wasn’t serious but advised observation.
• How immature could two grown men be? Diana shook her head silently in disbelief.
• As they conversed, Richard appeared, leaning on the support of a nurse. Despite the bandage wrapped around his head, his striking features and composed demeanor remained intact. Dressed impeccably in a well-tailored suit, he carried himself with the poise of a pine tree standing tall.
• The nurse assisting him seemed entirely smitten, her blushing cheeks betraying her admiration. Yet, when she reluctantly handed Richard over to Diana, her gaze darkened with annoyance, as though blaming her for something unseen.
• "Are you alright?" Diana asked softly, her voice laced with genuine concern.
• "I won’t die," Richard replied curtly, his irritation inexplicably bubbling beneath the surface.
• The medley of medicinal odors and strong disinfectants on him triggered waves of nausea in Diana. Recognizing the symptoms of early pregnancy, she fought back the impulse to vomit and steadied him instead. This time, Richard didn't pull away from her support, though his expression remained stormy.
• "Diana, do you even have a conscience?" Tristan suddenly burst out, visibly agitated. "Do you realize how much Richard treasures you? For years, he's treated you as if you were his entire world—letting no one say a word against you! Now you mention divorce like it's nothing! Haven't you even tried to work things out?"
• Diana stared at him, startled by the outburst. What did her divorce have to do with him?
• But understanding dawned quickly: if she and Richard separated, it would pave the way for Richard and Freya to formally be together. This would mean Tristan's longtime affection for Freya would go forever unrequited. No wonder he was so worked up.
• A faint smile of sympathy graced Diana's lips as she responded gently: "This decision has been mutual for quite some time now. The people involved have accepted it. Why burden yourself with unnecessary grievances? Happiness is something one must pursue for oneself—it cannot be imposed by blaming others."
• Richard’s sharp voice broke the tension: "Tristan, handle the contract on your own tonight and head to the other city."
• Tristan was momentarily struck silent before retorting in exasperation: "...!"
• Without sparing further words, Richard strode away purposefully, leaving Diana no choice but to follow behind him.
• At home, Richard’s injured arm made it difficult for him to undress. Reluctantly, Diana stepped forward and assisted him in removing his clothes piece by piece.
• Richard's athletic build caught her off guard—as someone who regularly exercised, his eight-pack abs stood prominently against the warmth of his bronze-toned skin. Her face flushed involuntarily with embarrassment even though they’d already shared an intimate relationship before. Somehow, his presence still made her heart stir with shyness.
• The scent of peach-scented shower gel filled the air as Richard bathed. While Diana appreciated its fresh aroma, her nausea persisted due to her pregnancy symptoms.
• Noticing her discomfort, he spoke bluntly: "You can leave—I don’t need your help anymore."
• After he finished showering, Diana carefully assisted him in applying his medication. She thought it’d be the end of her duties for the evening, but Richard surprised her by pulling her closer and wrapping his arms around her waist. "Stay," he murmured softly, "Diana… I almost died today."
• Her heart thudded wildly at his touch as the familiar warmth sent electric sparks through her body—awakening memories of their first night together when alcohol had clouded the lines between them.
• Her heart brimmed with warmth, a sweetness almost like honey, as her hands moved with a tenderness that seemed endless. Slowly, she caressed Richard’s back, each motion deliberate and soft.
• Richard stirred, his excitement evident.
• “I’m not feeling well today… and my period is coming again,” Diana murmured, her voice laced with hesitation. Worry for the child tightened her resolve to decline his silent invitation.
• Richard misread her reluctance, believing it was tied to Freya's return. A shadow crossed his face, and he turned away from her, sinking into quiet discontent.
• Diana felt the emptiness settle around her waist, a void replacing the warmth she so longed to cling to. She leaned forward, resting her face softly against Richard’s back. “Can I just hold you like this?” she whispered.
• It was the only way she could seal this moment in her memory, wanting to etch it as her last.
• “Alright,” Richard replied after a brief pause. He didn’t resist. His back relaxed, and soon he shifted toward her, folding her into an embrace before drifting off into sleep.
• Once his breaths grew steady and deep, Diana turned quietly toward him. Her gaze traveled across his tranquil features as her fingers traced gently over his brows. Inwardly, she vowed to carry everything with her—his love, his tenderness, his unyielding presence.
• She cradled his fingertips light as air within hers, finding solace in the gesture. Only when Richard slept could she permit herself such moments. It had always been this way; every night prior, she would feign sleep until she was certain he had truly succumbed to slumber. Then, and only then, would she indulge in stealing glances at him, pressing secret kisses against the stillness of his form.
• The morning came too soon. Diana stirred as the buzz of her phone shattered the cocoon of silence. Groggy and unfocused, she brought the device to her ear without thinking.
• Before she could speak, a woman’s voice intruded. “Richard, I heard about your car accident. How are you? Is it serious?”
• Diana’s heart clenched momentarily before composure found her again. “He’s fine,” she responded briskly, pushing herself upright.
• Turning toward Richard, she gave him a gentle nudge and extended the phone toward him. “Miss Freya is looking for you,” she said quietly, withdrawing into herself as she handed over the connection.