That night, upon stepping through the doors of the Bellamy Family, the scene in front of me pierced painfully at my heart.
Cassius—who had never once cooked and loathed the smell of grease—was now at the stove, clumsily yet carefully preparing soup for Linnea.
Gideon and Ellis were seated beside her, eagerly inquiring about her wedding preferences and honeymoon destinations.
I froze, feeling as if a heavy hammer had struck my chest—this was the scene I had envisioned countless times.
When Cassius caught sight of me, he pulled me aside firmly, “Hazel, don’t mention the marriage in front of Linnea again. She’s unwell, and we’ve chosen to grant her wish for the wedding of her dreams. I told her we never registered our marriage three years back.”
My heart sank, a chill creeping in. “Is it truly about fulfilling her… or merely a convenience for you?”
“Remember, you took Linnea’s rightful place!” Cassius’s tone was soft but firm. “You should be more understanding. This is transitory; my wife will always be you.”
I struggled to find my voice when Linnea suddenly entered the kitchen.
“Hazel…” she purred sweetly, her voice honeyed. “You’re not upset by my return, are you?”
My spine went rigid, sensing doom with each of her smiles.
As I had feared, her sleeve twitched slightly, and a large black spider emerged.
Panic seized me. After an earlier incident where Linnea had locked me in with spiders throughout the night, I struggled to breathe.
With a scream, I instinctively pushed her away.
Linnea stumbled, hitting the ground.
“Hazel, why did you do that?” Tears pooled in her eyes, and her voice trembled with apparent fear. “Do you truly despise my return?”
“You’re being ridiculous—”
Before I could respond, Cassius’s expression soured. “Hazel, what are you thinking? She’s sick and you laid your hands on her?”
He shoved me, and I collided against the stove.
The pot of scalding soup tipped, its boiling contents splattering down my back.
In that instant, it felt as if my skin were being seared alive, the heat penetrating painfully deep into my bones.
Ellis approached me with a frown—not out of concern, but to grip my collar so tightly. “Hazel, you’re still as vicious as three years ago! If you dare to harm her again, I won’t hold back!”
Pain coursed through my back, and tears streamed uncontrollably down my face. “I never did that!”
Cassius looked at me as if I were mere refuse. “Hazel, are you really so desperate for attention that you’d target someone who’s sick? Your tactics are utterly repulsive.”
The waves of pain in my back intensified, leaving me on the verge of collapse.
Through my foggy vision, I discerned three tall figures shielding Linnea as they exited—the light illuminating their profiles with a warm glow.
They gave her everything—tenderness, sorrow, and a fierce desire to protect.
They believed Linnea effortlessly, unwaveringly. I was left alone in the empty living room, spiraling into despair.
…
Cassius came to compel me to attend the birthday celebration for both myself and Linnea.
Since my return to the Bellamy Family, our birthdays had become inextricably linked.
On stage, she was the one everyone admired, while I merely served as a background presence.
Initially, I resisted going. My body was frail and my spirit utterly drained. Yet Cassius yanked me from my bed, his tone frosty. “If it weren’t for Linnea wanting to mend fences with you, I wouldn’t bother taking you.”
Mend fences?
A bitter, quiet laugh escaped me. Linnea was likely setting a trap.
But… my eyes flickered with an idea.
“Cassius…” I lowered my gaze, my voice laced with trepidation. “Today is my birthday, and I want a gift, too.”
He casually enquired, “What gift?”
I pointed to the file bag resting on the bedside table—inside were several thick papers, with a contract for a seaside villa on top.
“I desire that house,” I said softly, my tone resembling a reluctant plea. “The documents are all prepared; all that remains is your signature.”
As expected, Cassius didn’t refuse. A seaside villa worth a few hundred thousand dollars—a trivial gift for him, not even comparable to what he had planned for Linnea.
Linnea’s persistent calls pressed on, demanding he hurry to bring me along.
Cassius flipped directly to the last page of the documents. Without a second glance, he scribbled his signature.
Watching those familiar strokes fill the blank paper, my chest tightened, and a bitter sting welled in my eyes.
Nevertheless, I forced a faint smile and murmured, “Thank you.”
He barely registered my expression—he simply tossed the pen aside without a hint of warmth and instructed coldly, “Get changed already. Stop stalling.”
In silence, I slipped the disguised divorce agreement into my bag, masked as the property purchase document.
…
A waiter entered with a two-tiered strawberry cream cake, its candles arranged in a heart shape.
“Linnea, make a wish first!” someone called joyfully.
With her hands clasped, Linnea smiled brightly—but her gaze never left me.
“My first wish,” she began slowly, her voice soft, “is to be with Cassius for eternity.”
Cheers erupted from the crowd: “Kiss! Kiss!”
Rising on her toes, she pressed her lips against his.
Cassius didn’t shy away; rather, he wrapped his arm around her waist.
The applause, whistles, and laughter crashed over me like a tidal wave, growing louder with every moment, drowning my presence.
“And what’s the second wish?” came a voice.
“The second…” Linnea’s gaze dipped, her cheeks flushing. “Cassius, let’s practice for the wedding, okay? It’s only three days away, and I want to be a perfect bride.”
Taking Cassius’s hand, she adopted the tone of a wedding officiant. “Groom, please kneel and make me a promise, alright?”
I heard the scrape of a chair leg.
Cassius actually kneeled.
Right before me—his still-legally-wedded wife—he knelt to propose to another woman.
Looking up at her, his voice calm and resolute, he said, “I will cherish you, Linnea.”
I sat at the periphery, as if observing a scene from a life that was not my own.
On that screen, they kissed, embraced, exchanged vows. Off-screen, my heart felt hollow—so vacant that I couldn’t muster any bitterness.
It didn’t matter. I thought, I’m leaving.
Three days—just three days, and I would break free from this “cage” that had held me hostage for far too long.
And they wouldn’t deserve to know.