Chapter 7
I would never forget how Jonathan had rushed toward Alicia when we both fell into the pool.
Even though I had lost the past five years of memories and no longer loved him, my heart still instinctively ached at that moment. It was a dull sort of ache, unbearable, akin to a drowning
sensation.
I thought that that must have been the last struggle put up by the 25–year–old me.
I was truly thankful that I lost my memories. Otherwise, with how deeply I used to love Jonathan, that pain might have actually killed me
Jonathan was at a loss for words. He opened his mouth, as if he had wanted to say something, but ended up saying nothing at all.
I couldn’t swim, and yet he chose to save Alicia. That was the cold, hard truth. Had it not been for Frederick, I wouldn’t be lying here safe and sound now.
It took Jonathan a long while before he finally muttered, “Elise… Had it not been her, I would have saved you.”
I snorted inwardly. So, what he meant to say was that he’d only rescue me after he was sure. that Alicia was safe? If that was the case, then I didn’t need his pity.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I said nonchalantly “Who you choose to save is of no
consequence to me once we get a divorce.”
Jonathan tightened his embrace around me and said, “I know that you’re mad, but things aren’t the way you think they are.”
After a slight pause, he continued, “I don’t agree to the divorce.”
“And what right do you have to disagree?”
When Alicia and I fell into the pool today, he chose to save her without a second thought. That alone proved I was less important. I saw no reason to keep our marriage going-
And on top of that, he publicly chose her in front of everyone. What about my pride? Had I no dignity?
“I’m telling you, Jonathan, I will get a divorce at all costs!”
He seemed to have gotten angry. But he was probably also aware that I had every reason to be worked up, so he held back his anger and tolerated my behavior.
He forcefully carried me to bed, trapping me in his arms. “Let’s get some sleep. We’ll talk
about this tomorrow.”
“Let go of me!” I hissed through gritted teeth. “Don’t make me get aggressive with you!”
He let out a light, derisive chuckle. “Don’t you know how weak you are? And you’re talking about getting rough with me?”
I gritted my teeth and gave him a hard kick right where men were most vulnerable.
His expression twisted in agony in an instant. He grabbed my ankles and pressed my feet to
his stomach.
Then, unexpectedly, he softened and kissed my forehead. “Alright, stop kicking up a fuss. I know you’re furious. I’ll make it up to you, okay?”
My head hurt, and my temples throbbed. I had no idea how pitiful the 25–year–old me must have been. Even after everything that had happened, Jonathan still thought he could smooth things over by coaxing me. What did he take me for?
I clenched my fists and began punching his chest over and over again. Though my strength was feeble, it was enough to make sure that he wouldn’t be getting any sleep.
Jonathan’s expression darkened. Suddenly, he grabbed my wrists and pinned me down, towering over me as he looked down.
“If you’re not going to sleep, then let’s do something else instead.”
His grip fell exactly where the wound on my wrist was. A sharp pain shot through my arm, causing me to shake all over. But when I met Jonathan’s dark gaze, I forced myself to endure it. That wound was proof that I once tried to kill myself over love. For the 18–year–old me, such a thing was incredibly stupid. I would never let Jonathan see it.
My face paled from the pain.
Maybe Jonathan thought that my reaction was solely because I was resisting him, so he hovered over me, staring at me for the longest time. Desire was thick in his eyes, and his gaze flickered.
“Elise…” he rasped in an unbearably restrained voice.
I turned my head away, but I could still feel his ve gaze burning into me.
Cha
