Chapter 1 I Wish You a Happy Divorce

• Rachel's POV:
• "Happy third anniversary! Come home early—I've planned a surprise I'm sure you'll love."
• After sending the text, I waited patiently, but there was no reply.
• I set my phone aside and returned to the kitchen. I lowered the heat on the stove and continued chopping vegetables, humming to myself as I worked.
• Despite the lack of response, my mood remained upbeat.
• The housekeeper observed and offered, "Mrs. Murray, let me assist you."
• "No, it's alright. You keep doing what you're doing. I want to make dinner for him myself tonight."
• The housekeeper commented, "Mrs. Murray, you and Mr. Murray really seem to be deeply in love."
• I forced a smile and said nothing.
• In love, Dean Murray and I?
• It felt more like a façade. I knew deep down he didn't love me.
• At 7 PM, Dean arrived home, and the housekeeper discreetly left.
• As I finished setting the table, I felt his warm breath on my neck. Before I could react, his rough lips pressed against mine.
• I was momentarily taken aback before I pushed him away.
• Dean wrapped his arms around my waist, gripping my chin with his long fingers. His dark eyes narrowed as he spoke coldly, "You brought me home for this, didn't you?"
• I responded softly, "No, today is our third wedding anniversary. I really do have a gift for you."
• Dean released me, straightened his slightly wrinkled shirt, and said with mild indifference, "There's no need for a gift. Your surprises usually surprise me, but they don't particularly please me."
• I managed a faint smile but chose not to argue. I turned and went back to the kitchen.
• Soon, the final dish was ready.
• I sat across from Dean, poured wine into his glass, and then filled my own.
• Lifting my glass, I said, "To our third wedding anniversary—cheers."
• In the soft light, Dean's features were striking, with a sharply defined jawline and a straight nose. His lips were slightly pursed, showing a hint of dissatisfaction.
• I gave a faint smile, not expecting much from him, and took a long sip from my glass.
• After finishing the wine, I poured another glass for myself.
• One glass followed another.
• Eventually, feeling a bit tipsy, I rested my head on the table, watching the man across from me, whose expression remained unchanged. My voice dragged a little as I asked, "Dean, can't you give me a smile, just for today?"
• "What do you want from me? To indulge in your madness or to celebrate this utterly dull anniversary?"
• "How can it be dull? How many anniversaries do we get in a lifetime? Maybe after this one, there won't be another."
• He gave a smirk, as if he had just heard something amusing, his lips curling up with a trace of irony. "Do you really think you can make it go away?"
• I swirled the last bit of liquid in my glass, my eyes catching the dim light from the lamp and becoming a bit misty. "I guess ... it's probably not going to happen."
• Dean didn't say anything else. He stood up and made his way upstairs.
• I watched him in silence, noticing his irritation as he loosened his tie and shrugged off his suit jacket. Just as he was about to unbutton his shirt, I wrapped my arms around his waist, the lingering scent of alcohol still hanging between us.
• I whispered softly, "Don't hurry. I haven't given you your present yet ... "
• Dean turned to face me, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his gaze cold and unreadable.
• Feeling the effects of the alcohol, I found a bit of courage, my cheeks flushing as I looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, biting my lower lip.
• His expression seemed to darken and become more inscrutable.
• As my awkward fingers struggled to unbutton his shirt, he instinctively lifted my chin and forced my lips open with a rough kiss.
• I winced in pain, letting out a soft, pained noise.
• By the time we reached the bed, my vision was already blurry, my arms draped around his neck.
• He positioned himself above me, his hands placed firmly on either side of my body. His eyes had a mocking glint, as if he was silently taunting—Didn't you say you didn't want this?
• "Shouldn't you know by now that when a woman says she doesn't want something, it usually means she does?" I looked up at him with a teasing smile.
• Dean's lips curled into a cold sneer, and he leaned in to kiss me again.
• My teeth grazed his lip, and I tasted the metallic tang of blood in my mouth.
• The kiss felt like a struggle for dominance, a battle to control each other.
• Just as he reached for something on the nightstand, I interrupted, saying, "Dean, let's get a divorce."