The Anniversary Dinner

Vera watched them walk in side-by-side, her pale, drawn face softening with relief. She reached out a thin hand, gesturing for them to come closer.

"Tessa said you were busy this morning, Desmond," Vera said, her voice thin but warm. "Don't waste your precious time on an old woman like me. The doctors and nurses here are very attentive. You need to focus on your work at the company."

"I am not that busy, Mother," Desmond replied, his voice low.

"He is right," Tessa interrupted coolly. She pried her fingers from Desmond's tight grasp, leaving his hand empty, and took her mother's thin fingers instead. "Even if he is busy, he can delegate. Beside that, Mom, Desmond has something he wants to say."

"What is it, Desmond? I am listening." Vera turned her warm, expectant gaze toward Desmond, her gentle smile widening.

Desmond stared at Tessa, his brow furrowing. Her indifferent demeanor deeply unsettled him. She had been near tears outside, yet now she stood here eager to rip the band-aid off. Her icy composure struck him like a blow.

Did their three years of marriage truly mean nothing to her? Was it all a massive mistake in her eyes? Did she want this divorce so badly because she had never felt a single ounce of love for him?

A stubborn, irrational urge flared up within his chest. He wanted to prove her wrong. He wanted to shatter that icy composure of hers.

He swallowed the words of divorce that were lingering on his tongue.

"Today is our third wedding anniversary," Desmond blurted out, his eyes locked onto Tessa's face. "I want to stay and have dinner with you and Tessa."

Tessa’s eyes widened in disbelief. She stared at him, her body freezing as she tried to process the sheer absurdity of his words. This was the man who had just demanded a divorce yesterday, the man whose childhood sweetheart was waiting outside the hospital gates. Now, he was acting the part of a devoted husband.

"You want to eat here?" Tessa asked, her voice dripping with sharp sarcasm. "I didn't realize you had developed a taste for hospital food, Mr. Carlisle. Don't you really despise the smell of disinfectant?"

She remembered it vividly. During their first year of marriage, he had been hospitalized with a high fever. When she had tried to feed him some soup, the sterile, overwhelming scent of the ward had made him physically ill. He had refused to stay a moment longer than necessary.

"Having dinner together as a family is a happy occasion," Desmond said smoothly, his expression unreadable. "The environment does not matter."

Tessa felt a surge of irritation at his sheer pretentiousness. She could not comprehend why he was playing this game. Sloane was just outside, yet he was here, pretending to care about a meaningless anniversary. But with her mother watching them with hopeful eyes, she could not expose his lies.

Vera patted Tessa's hand, her eyes shining with relief. "That sounds lovely, Tessa. Go order some takeout from that nice restaurant down the street. Get something Desmond likes."

Tessa suppressed a sigh. She did not want to leave them alone, but her mother's request left her with little choice. "I will go get the food," she said quietly. She turned to Desmond, her eyes hardening into a cold, protective glare. "Please take good care of my mother while I am gone. Do not let anyone near her."

"I will," Desmond promised, nodding his head.

Tessa grabbed her purse and walked out, her footsteps echoing down the quiet corridor.

Once the door clicked shut, the warmth vanished from Vera's face. She struggled to sit up, her breathing shallow.

Desmond quickly stepped forward, placing a soft pillow behind her back to support her. "Mother, is there something you wanted to discuss with me in private?"

Vera looked at him, her gaze sharp and discerning. "Sloane is back, isn’t she?"

Desmond froze in place, his hand tightening inside his pocket. He nodded slowly. "Yes, she is."

Vera let out a long, heavy sigh, her eyes filled with a deep, maternal sorrow. "Three years ago, my mother and your grandfather forced the two of you into this marriage. It was an arrangement born of convenience, not love. Do you resent us for that, Desmond?"

Desmond stared at the blank hospital wall, unable to find his voice.

"You do," Vera answered for him. "And yet, you never took that resentment out on Tessa. For that, I have always been grateful to you. But Desmond... you felt trapped and mistreated by this marriage, but so did Tessa. She was innocent in all of this."

Desmond looked away, his conscience stinging. He knew Tessa was innocent. In fact, she was so relentlessly kind and gentle that her lack of anger over his sudden divorce request only made his guilt heavier. She hadn’t screamed, hadn’t cried, hadn’t blamed him. Her quiet acceptance made him feel like a monster.

His mind drifted back to their wedding night three years ago. The memory was vivid, stained with his own anger and bitterness. He had received the news that Sloane had fled the country to avoid marrying him. Feeling betrayed and humiliated, he had drowned his sorrows in alcohol during the reception.

By the time he stumbled into the dark bedroom, he was heavily drunk, his mind clouded with rage. When he saw Tessa waiting for him in her white gown, he had mistaken her for Sloane. In a fit of drunken, blinding fury, he had taken her innocence. He had been rough, his hands bruising her delicate skin, ignoring her quiet tears. He had forced himself onto her, unleashing all his resentment onto her body, treating her like a substitute for the woman who had abandoned him.

Yet, after that chaotic night, something shifted. Even though he convinced himself he did not love her, he found himself growing deeply addicted to her soft presence. He craved the touch of her smooth skin, the gentle warmth of her body, and the quiet comfort she brought to his home. Over the past three years, he had grown fiercely protective of her. He had even made a silent vow to himself: if Sloane never returned, he would bury his past and treat his gentle little wife with the utmost care and respect for the rest of their lives.

But Sloane had returned. And the fragile peace they had built was shattered.

"When Tessa came to visit me last night, I could tell she was deeply unhappy," Vera said, her voice shaking slightly. "She tried to hide it, but she is my daughter. I know her better than anyone. She..."

Before Vera could finish her sentence, the heavy wooden door was pushed open with a sharp, abrupt creak.

"Long time no see, Aunt Vera!"

Sloane stepped into the room, a bright, plastic smile plastered on her face. She was carrying an expensive, brightly wrapped fruit basket.

The moment Vera saw her, her maternal warmth evaporated. She watched with cold, critical eyes as Sloane walked over and set the basket on the table.

"Desmond, my arm hurts so much," Sloane whined, ignoring Vera as she slid her hand around Desmond's arm, clinging tightly. "I shouldn't have carried something so heavy."

Desmond felt a wave of intense shame wash over him. Under Vera’s piercing, knowing gaze, he felt exposed. He tried to pull his arm back, but Sloane only held on tighter, pressing her body against his.

"Desmond, I feel so dizzy," Sloane muttered, her eyes fluttering shut. "The doctor said my anemia has gotten worse. I think I am going to faint."

She began to sag, her knees buckling. Desmond had no choice but to catch her. He lifted her up and helped her into a nearby armchair.

"Sit here," Desmond said, his voice laced with discomfort. "I will go find a doctor to check on you."

Sloane nodded weakly, pressing a hand to her forehead with a soft groan.

Desmond turned to Vera, murmuring a hasty apology before quickly exiting the hospital room, eager to escape the suffocating atmosphere.

The moment the door clicked shut behind him, Sloane’s frail, dizzy facade vanished into thin air. She straightened her back, her weak expression morphing into a smug, arrogant smirk. She looked down at the dying woman in the bed, her eyes shining with malicious triumph.

"Do you honestly think he will stay with Tessa?" Sloane asked, her voice dripping with venomous amusement.

Vera clutched her blanket, her chest rising and falling as she fought back her anger. "You abandoned him three years ago and fled the country. Do you really believe things can just go back to the way they were? Desmond is a married man now."

Sloane threw her head back and let out a cold, mocking laugh. "A married man? Don't make me laugh, Aunt Vera. You saw him just now. The moment I said I was sick, he forgot all about your daughter. He cares about me, and only me."

She stepped closer to the bed, leaning in to whisper her cruel words directly into Vera's ear.

"Let me tell you a little secret that makes me incredibly happy. Yesterday, Desmond was the one who picked me up from the airport. He took me out to a wonderful dinner and treated me like a queen. And do you know what he did the very moment he got home?"

Sloane paused, savoring the look of growing dread on Vera's face.

"He demanded a divorce from Tessa. He wants to end their marriage immediately, all so he can be with me. He did all of this for me, Aunt Vera. Your daughter is nothing to him."