I Marry for Real, and Now They Regret It

Chapter 8

Jerome gently tapped my forehead, his voice playful but with a hint of mock frustration.

I couldn't help but smile, feeling an odd sense of familiarity in the way he did it.

"Sara, I'm sorry," I said, truly meaning it.

But instead of his usual teasing, Jerome looked into my eyes, suddenly serious. "Still calling me Jerome? Didn't we get married today?"

He raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at his lips. "So, what should you call me now?"

My face instantly heated up, and before I could say anything, he pulled me into his arms and laughed. The sound was warm, carefree, and I couldn't help but laugh along.

Living with Jerome felt like a dream come true. No games, no second-guessing. It was only then that I realized what a real, healthy relationship felt like—steadfast, honest, and perfectly in sync.

But Arnold... Arnold wasn't done.

I thought I had made myself clear that day. I had moved on. But the next morning, on my way to work, I ran right into him.

I barely recognized him. Arnold, who always looked so sharp, now seemed like a mess. His face was pale, his hair and beard unkempt. He looked exhausted, worn down—nothing like the confident man I once knew.

"Sara, I know everything," he said, frustration thick in his voice. "I know you married Jerome, but you only just met him. You couldn't possibly love him. You're just trying to make me jealous, right?"

He shoved a bouquet of red roses into my hands, his eyes wide with hope, as if I was going to crumble under the pressure.

I didn't take the flowers. I stood firm.

"My husband and I are fine. I don't feel anything for you anymore. Please, just leave me alone."

Arnold's grip tightened on the roses, bitterness creeping into his voice. "I don't believe it. Ten years of us, and you think a few days with him can replace all that?"

His eyes softened, almost pleading. "Sara, it was my fault. I pushed you away because I was afraid of Esther's depression. But I've always loved you. Can you give me another chance?"

I shook my head, disgusted.

"Arnold, you're pathetic. Just because you liked me once, does that mean I should've spent my life chasing after you, begging you to marry me?"

He had so many chances—over ten years to figure things out. But now, after I had moved on, he suddenly wanted me back?

No way. I wasn't going to let him drag me back into that mess.

But Arnold wouldn't let go. He was practically in tears now, his voice cracking. "I'm sorry, Sara. I'm really sorry..."

Just as I thought I couldn't take it anymore, Jerome showed up.

"Hey, honey, you're supposed to let me know when you leave work early so I can pick you up," he said, his voice warm and steady as he wrapped his arm around me and started walking us away.

Then, with an easy smile, he turned to Arnold and casually added, "By the way, she doesn't like roses. Thinks they're tacky. I bet tulips would suit her better."

In the car, the moment I opened the passenger door, the sweet fragrance of fresh tulips filled the air. I couldn't help but smile at the bouquet sitting on the seat beside me.

Without thinking, I leaned over and kissed Jerome on the cheek.

Jerome turned a little red, his eyes briefly flicking to the side, but he grinned, clearly pleased.

Later, I packed up my things and moved into our new place.

That's when I discovered the truth.

Esther had never had depression. It was all a lie.

Her medical reports were scattered on the table, carelessly abandoned.