I will never forget how Jonathan rushed toward Alicia when we both fell into the pool. Even though I’d lost the past five years of my memories and no longer loved him, my heart instinctively ached. It was a dull, unbearable ache, like drowning. That must have been the last desperate struggle of my twenty-five-year-old self. I was truly grateful for my memory loss; otherwise, the depth of my former love for Jonathan might have killed me.

Jonathan was speechless. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but said nothing. I couldn’t swim, yet he chose to save Alicia. That was the cold, hard truth. Had it not been for Frederick, I wouldn’t be here. Finally, Jonathan muttered, “Elise… Had it not been for her, I would have saved you.” I snorted inwardly. So, he only rescued me after ensuring Alicia’s safety? If so, I didn’t need his pity. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” I said nonchalantly. “Who you choose to save is inconsequential once we divorce.”

Jonathan tightened his embrace. “I know you’re angry, but things aren’t as you think.” He paused. “I won’t agree to a divorce.” “And what right do you have?” I retorted. He chose Alicia without hesitation. That alone proved my insignificance. I saw no reason to continue our marriage, especially after his public display of favoritism. Where was my pride? My dignity? “I’m telling you, Jonathan, I will get a divorce, no matter the cost!”

He seemed angry, but perhaps he sensed my justification. He restrained himself, carrying me to bed and holding me. “Let’s sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.” “Let go of me!” I hissed. “Don’t make me get aggressive!” He chuckled derisively. “Don’t you know how weak you are? And you’re talking about getting rough with me?” I gritted my teeth and kicked him. His expression contorted in pain. He grabbed my ankles, pressing my feet to his stomach, then unexpectedly softened, kissing my forehead. “Alright, stop. I know you’re furious. I’ll make it up to you.”

My head throbbed. How pathetic my twenty-five-year-old self must have been. Even now, Jonathan thought he could coax me. What did he take me for? I punched his chest repeatedly. My strength was feeble, but enough to disrupt his sleep. His expression darkened. He grabbed my wrists, pinning me down. “If you’re not going to sleep, then let’s do something else.” His grip fell on my wrist wound. Sharp pain shot through my arm. But meeting his dark gaze, I endured it. That wound was proof of my past suicide attempt. For my eighteen-year-old self, it was incredibly foolish. I wouldn’t let Jonathan see it.

My face paled. Perhaps he attributed my reaction solely to resistance. He hovered, staring. Desire filled his eyes, his gaze flickering. “Elise…” he rasped, his voice strained. I turned away, but felt his intense gaze burning into me.