Chapter 3

A heavy silence filled the air before Vivian's eyes brimmed with tears, spilling over in an unstoppable wave of grief.

Perhaps it was time. Time to break free from the chains of her own foolish hopes—to stop lying to herself.

The hospital was in chaos, overrun with victims from the fire. Doctors and nurses rushed through the halls, their faces strained with exhaustion as they struggled to keep up.

Vivian had been lucky. A splintered clothes rack had grazed her calf, leaving behind a jagged but shallow wound.

Compared to the devastation around her, her injury was nothing.

After a quick cleaning and bandaging at the nearest clinic, she hailed a cab and returned to the one place she was supposed to call home.

Seabreeze Villa, a sprawling estate under Adrian Blackwood's name, was technically their marital residence.

But in reality, Vivian had lived there alone for years. Adrian was rarely around.

She had dismissed the housekeeper long ago, realizing she didn’t need much—just takeout, grocery deliveries, and the occasional visit from a cleaning service.

Now, standing in the vast living room, she sank onto the sofa, her gaze drifting over the empty space.

The decor was sleek, monochrome, and utterly devoid of warmth.

A cold realization settled over her: this grand, silent house felt more like a mausoleum—a tomb for her wasted youth and the love that had slipped through her fingers.

Would anyone even notice if she stopped breathing one day?

Vivian exhaled, her body heavy as she pushed herself up from the couch. She leaned against the wall for support, wincing as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom.

Every step sent sharp jolts of pain through her, from her wounded leg to the very marrow of her bones.

The house was too quiet, amplifying even the smallest sounds—her own breathing, the rustle of fabric, the creak of the floorboards beneath her feet.

It was in this suffocating silence that Vivian truly understood the depth of her loneliness. It clung to her, thick and tangible, pressing in from all sides.

By the time she reached her bedroom, she was exhausted—physically, emotionally. She collapsed onto the bed, her body sinking into the mattress like a stone.

Just as she closed her eyes, the shrill ring of her phone shattered the silence.

She hesitated before answering.

"You called earlier. What do you want?"

Adrian’s voice was as cold and detached as ever.

Vivian froze, caught off guard by his sudden contact.

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could speak, a soft, feminine voice drifted through the line.

"Adrian, are you coming back to—"

The call cut off abruptly.

Vivian’s grip on the phone tightened.

She didn’t need to hear the rest.

The silence that followed was deafening.