Chapter 6

Aunt Eleanor's gentle demeanor made it even harder for Melisa. She didn't want to see disappointment in her aunt's eyes. More than anyone, Aunt Eleanor had been a mother figure to her—far more than her own mother ever was.

"Aunt, this marriage wasn't a choice for either me or Leo. We decided to divorce within two years," Melisa admitted, her voice steady despite the unease curling in her stomach.

Her palms were already sweating as she tried to gauge her aunt's emotions.

For a brief moment, Aunt Eleanor seemed taken aback. But she quickly composed herself, though a helpless look flickered in her eyes.

"Melisa, are you certain about this? Relationships are complicated, my dear. Perhaps... this was destined."

Melisa didn't respond immediately. She lowered her gaze, fingers lightly tracing the fabric of her dress.

Destined?

There were no fairy tales, no preordained fates. If destiny was real, then how could she have prophetic dreams? How could the incidents she had foreseen change with mere actions?

She lifted her head, her expression unreadable. "I don't believe in destiny, Aunt," she said quietly.

Aunt Eleanor sighed, her gaze soft yet filled with unspoken understanding.

"You don't have to believe in destiny, dear," she murmured, reaching out to pat Melisa's hand. "But sometimes, the things we resist the most turn out to be the ones we need the most."

Melisa's fingers twitched under her aunt's warm touch. She wanted to argue, to say that she and Leonard had already made their choice. But instead, she stayed silent.

Because deep down, a small part of her wasn't as certain as she wanted to be.

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Sun rays streamed through the window, casting a golden hue on the slim figure lying on the rocking chair. The soft creaking of wood accompanied the rhythmic motion, blending seamlessly with the peaceful silence of the morning.

A low knock at the door disturbed the serenity.

"Come in," Melisa said, pulling the book away from her face, her tone slightly sullen.

But the moment her eyes landed on the tray of delicious food being brought in, they brightened instantly.

Melisa picked up a piece of cake that looked the most appealing, savoring its soft texture and perfectly balanced sweetness. Closing her eyes contentedly, she let the comforting taste settle on her tongue.

She reached for another piece but hesitated, a thought surfacing in her mind.

"Anna, right?" she asked, turning to the petite maid with freckles, even though she already knew the answer. In her dreams, Anna had been one of the few who had shown her kindness.

"Yes, Miss," Anna replied with a small nod.

Melisa set down her fork. "Can you convey my order to the head maid? I need a guest room cleaned."

Anna blinked in surprise, confusion flickering across her face. She hesitated for a moment but was about to nod when—

Bang!

A loud slam echoed through the room, startling them both.

Melisa's head snapped toward the door. Leonard stood there, his dark eyes stormy, his tall frame rigid with tension. His expression was unreadable, but the suffocating pressure in the air was enough to make Anna instinctively lower her gaze.

Melisa, however, met his stare head-on, gripping her fork a little tighter.

Leonard shot a cold glance at Anna, who hesitated for a brief moment before lowering her head and quickly retreating from the room. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.

"Leo, what was that?" Melisa demanded, her voice sharp with frustration.

But Leonard didn't answer. He simply took a step forward, his long strides closing the distance between them with an unsettling ease.

Melisa instinctively took a step back. Then another.

Until her back hit the wall.

Her breath hitched slightly, but she forced herself to maintain her composure. Leonard towered over her, his sharp features cast in shadow by the golden sunlight filtering through the window.

Despite the undeniable pressure of his presence, Melisa refused to back down. Tilting her chin up, she met his intense gaze head-on.

"Why do you want to move into the guest room? Do you dislike me that much?" Leonard's voice was low and hoarse, carrying an edge of something unspoken.

"Leo, we've already discussed this. This marriage was a mistake." Melisa's tone was calm, but there was a hint of exhaustion beneath it.

Leonard let out a hollow laugh, though there was no humor in his eyes. "Right. Your groom was supposed to be Tristan—the one you actually wanted to marry."

Melisa's fingers curled at her sides. She wanted to correct him, to tell him that she never loved Tristan, that he was never the one she had in her heart. But the words caught in her throat.

Maybe… maybe letting him believe this misunderstanding was for the best. Maybe it would make him let go of whatever lingering feelings he had for her.

Seeing her silence, Leonard's hand lifted slightly as if he wanted to reach for her, but he stopped midway. His fingers curled briefly before he let them drop to his side.

"Melisa, we are still a married couple, even if only for two years. You said you didn't want any rumors, so why insist on moving?" His voice was quieter now, laced with something unreadable.

Melisa opened her mouth to argue—to tell him that the maids and staff here were highly trained and wouldn't dare spread rumors. But as she looked into his eyes, the words faded on her tongue.

In the end, she remained silent.

Leonard exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. Without another word, he turned and walked away. His back looked strangely heavy, as if carrying a burden only he understood.

The days that followed were calm, almost peaceful.

Until her parents arrived uninvited.

They claimed they had come to see her, but Melisa knew better. Their sudden visit wasn't out of concern—it was about the failed negotiation.

In her dreams, they had never once visited her until much later, when her lovely twin sister, Olivia, took notice of their strained relationship. Olivia, ever the doting daughter, had tried to remedy things between them.

But in the end, all she had done was reignite their love—at Melisa's expense.