Chapter 4

I stand in front of the mirror, mechanically and numbly placing pieces of jewelry into a cardboard box.

These items are gifts he gave me over the past three years, sometimes for birthdays, sometimes for random occasions. Now, I don't want to keep any of them.

The clothes in the closet are vibrant in style and fashionably cut, most of them handpicked by him.

I carelessly yank the clothes from the closet, fold them into a neat stack, and place them in another box.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I realize that I've become more and more like Melody.

With the packed boxes placed by the door, I call for the household staff and tell them they can dispose of these things as they see fit.

My gaze turns to Bun on the sofa, curled up in a ball, sleeping lazily.

I walk over, gently pick him up, and stroke his soft fur.

"Bun, I should let you go too," I say, my voice barely audible.

Just as I'm about to leave, the door is pushed open.

Emerson stands in the doorway, wearing his usual gentle smile. "Zoran, where are you going?"

He notices Bun in my arms and the packed pet supplies, a look of confusion in his eyes. "Are you giving him away?"I nodded slightly and said coolly, "I'm too busy to take care of it. You wouldn't care about a cat bought on a whim either, would you?"

Over the past year, Emerson had only fed the cat a handful of times.

He was taken aback, seemingly choked by my words. After a few seconds of silence, he forced a smile and said, "It's better this way. Cats carry a lot of germs, which isn't good for you either."

I didn't respond and walked past him, holding Mantou.

After arranging Mantou's placement with Vivienne, I prepared to go home. As I passed by a coffee shop, a familiar figure caught my eye—it was Melody.

She was holding a cup of coffee, about to enter. When she looked up and saw me, a flash of disdain crossed her eyes.

"It's been three years. I thought you'd have more self-awareness and leave by now. Don't even think about taking away my brother's love for me," her words dripped with sarcasm.

I stopped and looked at her coldly, "Yes, it's been three years. You two are acting less and less like siblings. Melody, does your fiancé know about this?"

Her face changed, nearly dropping her coffee cup, "What nonsense are you talking about?"

"Nonsense?" I sneered, "Can you honestly say that the feelings between you and Emerson are purely sibling love?"She was so angry her face turned bright red. Through gritted teeth, she snarled:

"Zoran, who do you think you are? You've got the cursed fate of killing your parents. Your mother died because of you back then. If it weren't for my brother, no one would ever marry you..."

"Shut up!" I roared, cutting her off mid-sentence.

Rage instantly overwhelmed my rationality. I reached out and shoved her. Caught off guard, she fell backwards, clutching her chest as she collapsed to the ground, gasping in pain.

Just then, I heard hurried footsteps. I turned to look - it was Emerson.

When he saw Melody on the ground, his face changed dramatically. He rushed over.

"Zoran, have you lost your mind? Don't you know she has a weak heart?" He helped Melody up and carried her, rushing towards the hospital.

I stood rooted to the spot. The cold wind whipped against my face, but I couldn't feel a hint of chill.

Emerson's retreating figure, carrying Melody, gradually blurred in my vision.

Two days later, I packed up all my belongings, grabbed my passport and plane ticket, and resolutely walked out the front door.

Melody didn't have any serious issues, but she still stayed in the hospital for two days, with Emerson by her side the entire time.

On Monday night, Emerson finally remembered that today was my birthday.He flipped through his phone again and again. For a full two days, I hadn't contacted him.

Emerson suddenly felt his heart racing, an uneasy feeling beginning to spread.

He asked his assistant to buy a cake and a bouquet of flowers to send to the house.

Shortly after, the assistant called Emerson.

"Mr. Carlisle, there's no one home."

The assistant's voice came through, with a hint of caution in his tone, "There's a paper on the table, it's... divorce papers."