Chapter 1

I married my bestie’s brother, but after three years of marriage, he still hadn’t touched me.

One day, I couldn’t bear it anymore and went to my bestie Vivian’s house to complain to her. But what I saw—left me completely shell-shocked.

There was my husband Marcus, pressing Vivian against the wall, kissing her with desperate intensity.

“You know damn well I’ve always been in love with you,” he growled, his voice thick with frustration. “I already married Emma as you insisted, and now you’re pushing me to sleep with her? Are you trying to fucking kill me?”

Vivian’s eyes glistened with tears, her voice catching. “Marcus, I love you too, but I’m just your adopted sister. Mom and Dad would never let us be together.”

“Since you are married to Emma, love her well, okay?”

“I will never love anyone but you, Vi,” he said, his deep voice strained with repressed anguish. “Marrying her was the biggest compromise I could make. I don’t love her, so I’ll never touch her.” “EVER.”

So that was it. Marcus had always been in love with Vivian!

And marrying me? Just a façade to appease his family!

—

That night, Emma’s heart shattered beyond repair, her tears seemingly endless.

She thought back to her first meeting with Marcus—how she had been instantly captivated, falling head over heels for her bestie’s brother. For seven years, she had chased him relentlessly.

She had given him her whole heart, loving him with everything she had.

Yet it took only a moment for that love to die completely.

After spending the night alone in the cold wind, she contacted a lawyer and drafted divorce papers.

Just as she signed her name, the front door opened. Marcus had returned.

She was about to hand him the papers to sign when he grabbed her hand, his usually cold face showing unprecedented panic and concern.

“Emma, Vivian collapsed with a massive hematemesis last night. I rushed her to the ER, and the doctors diagnosed her with multiple myeloma needing an immediate transplant. They checked the registry, and your marrow is a perfect match. Maybe… please could you donate to save her?”

Having been awake all night, Emma couldn’t process this immediately.

Marcus mistook her hesitation for refusal. His cold, composed eyes now held a pleading look.

“Emma, please… If my own marrow had matched, I wouldn’t be asking you this. You and Vivian have been best friends forever, now you’re her sister-in-law too. If you agree to donate, I’ll do absolutely anything you ask. Anything at all.”

Emma lowered her dim eyes, her voice bitter.

“Anything? Even… sleeping together?”

“Yes!”

Seeing him agree without hesitation, Emma recalled how for three years he had repeatedly rejected and avoided her whenever she suggested intimacy.

Clearly, his love for Vivian ran deep in his bones.

Though he didn’t love her and was clearly unwilling, he would agree to such a condition to save Vivian.

Before she could respond, another call came from the hospital reporting the patient’s critical condition.

At that moment, his eyes reddened and his voice shook: “Emma, please… I’m begging you.”

Emma’s heart stabbed with pain, and finally, she got into his car.

After the surgery, Emma stayed in the hospital for three days. Yet Marcus never visited once.

During her countless follow-up appointments, passing by the adjacent room, Emma would see him standing guard by Vivian’s bedside.

He would hold Vivian’s hand while she slept, unwilling to let go; he would cool her medicine and feed it to her spoonful by spoonful, coaxing her to take honey preserves afterward; concerned about her health, he would carry her princess-style wherever they went…

Every word, every action revealed his undisguised, profound love.

Emma saw it all.

She didn’t disturb them, just quietly recovered and completed her discharge procedures.

Before leaving the hospital, passing by one last time, she overheard Vivian’s voice.

“Marcus, go see Emma. You haven’t shown up for days; she must be upset with you.”

Marcus remained motionless, tucking the blanket around her, his tone indifferent.

“She won’t be. She loves me too much and won’t come to me for trouble.”

Emma smiled silently, her eyes filled with exhaustion.

Yes. No trouble. But not because she loved him too much, just she didn’t love him at all.

She composed herself and returned home alone, only to find the divorce papers still sitting in the entryway where they’d been left days before.

She picked them up and read through them once more just as the door opened behind her.

Marcus returned, looking somewhat surprised to see her. “You’ve been discharged? Why didn’t you tell me? I could have picked you up.”

When he hadn’t even visited her in the hospital, what was the point of telling him about her discharge?

She replied calmly, “I knew you were busy. It was such a small matter; I didn’t want to bother you.”

With that, the room fell silent.

Marcus said nothing, his eyes darkening as he loosened his tie.

He put his arm around her waist and leaned down to kiss her, but Emma dodged.

Seeing her startled retreat, he frowned, giving her a rare lingering look.

“Sleeping together—your request. Did you forget?”

Emma unconsciously clenched her hand, her eyelashes trembling as she smiled awkwardly.

“I was just joking. Don’t take it so seriously. Can I change something else instead?”

Marcus visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping with relief. “Of course.”

Emma saw it all but didn’t call him out. She took out the divorce papers and flipped to the last page.

“Then just sign this. It’s what I’ve wanted most during all this time.”

Marcus seemed surprised by her eagerness—this was the first time he’d seen her so eager to express what she wanted.

“What you want most? Which property caught your eye that’s got you this excited?”

He reached for the document, ready to flip it open and see what had me so enthusiastic.

But just then, his phone rang.

“Marcus, how’s the soup coming along? When are you bringing it over? I’m starving!” Vivian’s spoiled voice came through.

Only then did Emma realize he had come home just to make soup for her.

“I’ll be right there,” Marcus said.

Without further delay, he quickly signed the papers without even looking at them and headed to the kitchen with his phone.

He spent an hour in the kitchen, then hurried out carrying a thermos.

From start to finish, he never spoke another word to Emma.

Watching his retreating figure, she softly answered his earlier question:

“What I wanted wasn’t a house, but freedom. Marcus, happy divorce.”