After the divorce, she finally saw through the gentle care he'd shown—it had concealed a knife that carved straight into her heart. For three years, their love had seemed like something out of a fairy tale, yet in the end, she couldn't even get a simple "I loved you" in return. She picked up the pen and signed the divorce papers, but the tears that fell uncontrollably betrayed the pain she couldn't hide. When she lifted her gaze again, her expression was resolute. "Congratulations," she said, her voice steady. "Your revenge is complete." Then she turned and walked away, her back straight—the last shred of dignity she allowed herself.
As for him, staring at the signed documents on the table, he felt no satisfaction, no triumph. Two years later, she reappeared in his life, but her eyes held no trace of him anymore. When he pursued her relentlessly, she met him with icy detachment. "We're divorced," she reminded him sharply.
Yet in one swift motion, he pulled her into his arms. "Divorced doesn't mean we can't remarry!"
