Chapter 4

The next morning, Bren was already gone.

Only the living room remained, littered with shredded pieces of the torn divorce agreement.

Looking at the mess, for a brief moment, I felt somewhat dazed.

Perhaps... Bren isn't really that heartless toward me?

Did he tear up the divorce agreement because he couldn't bear to let me go?

It wasn't until my phone buzzed with a new message that I snapped back to reality.

The message was from a strange girl.

A week ago, she suddenly wanted to add me as a friend on my Ins account.

Her verification message read, "Third wheel, I'm back. Time to return Bren to me, don't you think?"

Out of curiosity, I accepted her request.

Since then, she's been frequently sending me various photos and documents.

Photos of Bren accompanying her to concerts; Video screenshots of the two of them watching fireworks together at the beach;

Even photos of them kissing in a parking lot late at night.

Even that agreement in Bren's study—she was the one who tipped me off about it.

This time, she sent a photo of Bren sleeping peacefully on a hotel bed, captured from the side.

"I heard you went through Bren's study and saw that agreement. So, have you given up yet?"

"By the way, the jewelry Bren left for you—I hope you'll send it for cleaning and disinfection soon."

"I have a cleanliness obsession. I don't like things that other people have touched."

"Making Bren marry you was only because I thought you were clean enough. Men have physical needs, you know. Better he relieves himself with you than goes looking for prostitutes outside."

"Also, you only have three days to get divorced, or I'll go public with our relationship."

"Don't think Bren can't bear to lose you. You have no idea how proactive he is."

"Ever since I returned to Dubois pack, he's been coming to find me almost every day. Alright, enough talking. Bren's about to wake up. We're going to take a bath together."

The messages stopped abruptly there.

And my tears fell one by one onto the keyboard.

Through blurred vision, I forced myself to reply:

"You said you don't like things other people have touched, but over these years, Bren and I have had sex a thousand times already."

After I sent the message, there was no further response from her.

My chest felt suffocated, like being punched into cotton.

That sharp, piercing pain surged up instantly.

No wonder he stormed out in the middle of the night.

At the time, I thought it was because my mention of divorce had upset Bren.

Turns out he was just rushing off to relive old times with his ex-girlfriend.

The last thread in my heart snapped. With trembling fingertips, I sent him a message,

"Bren, are you free today? I want to break our mate bond with you. We can go to City Hall and handle the procedures."