Dante Does Not Love Nora

Hearing the assistant’s awkward confession, Nora didn't say a single word. She just nodded vaguely and quietly got out of her hospital bed. She began to pack her few scattered items into a small bag.

"Are you being discharged today?" The patient in the bed next to hers piped up. She was a kind-hearted woman recovering from a second miscarriage, yet she managed to remain optimistic. Noticing Nora's isolation, she tilted her head and innocently inquired, "Where is your husband? Why is he not here to support you?"

"You talk too much," the woman's husband complained, though his tone held no real anger. Despite grumbling about the hospital chores, he didn't stop moving his hands. He continued to gently massage his wife's swollen legs to ease her discomfort.

Nora closely watched the couple. Her eyes inevitably reddened. Perhaps that was the ordinary, warm, and genuine marriage she envied. She had given Dante three years of her life, unconditionally accommodating his every demand and keeping their marriage a secret, yet she couldn't even get him to show up for her discharge. Feeling a sudden chill spread across her back, Nora instinctively tightened her thin coat against the biting autumn air. She offered a faint, polite nod to the woman and silently left the ward alone.

Meanwhile, at the lavish Cloud Villa, a grandiose birthday party was in full swing for Chloe. The opulent room hummed with the chatter of industry elites and powerful directors from Oakhaven, all mingling with glasses of champagne.

"Mr. Carlisle, Chloe is a newcomer with great potential. Don't worry! She will have a promising future in Oakhaven with you looking out for her," an influential director flattered, raising his glass.

Despite the lively atmosphere, Dante sat somewhat isolated at the table. He stared down at his phone, visibly disturbed. A brief text message from his assistant had just confirmed that Nora was being discharged today. The realization gnawed at him.

Noticing his distraction, a blushing, shy Chloe approached him. She gracefully picked up a crystal flute and offered to drink a toast on his behalf to the directors. "Dante, I'll drink it for you," she offered, eager to show their closeness.

The directors immediately began to make teasing insinuations about their romantic relationship. Simon, Chloe's manager, chimed in smoothly to capitalize on the moment. "Mr. Carlisle sacrificed a lot for Chloe's fame. Chloe, raise a glass to Mr. Carlisle to show your appreciation."

Dante firmly corrected their assumptions. He set his phone facedown and stated unequivocally, "Chloe is like a younger sister to me. I hope you will look after her for me in the future."

Chloe's radiant smile stiffened into an awkward, humiliated grimace. Her hand holding the elegant glass froze in mid-air. She tried to recover her composure, murmuring softly, "Dante has always taken good care of me."

Ignoring the sudden shift in mood, Dante felt haunted by the lingering, pale image of Nora's lifeless face in the stark hospital bed. He rubbed his throbbing temples. Pulling out a lighter, he lit a cigarette and took a drag before abruptly standing up.

"You guys drink first," he told the group, his tone brooking no argument. "I have something urgent to deal with."

"Dante..." Chloe panicked. It was her birthday party, an event she had crafted to solidify her public image. If Dante made an early, abrupt departure, it would ruin the illusion of her importance.

Desperate, Chloe chased him outside the private room and into the cool air of the corridor. Looking around to ensure no one was listening, she stepped close to him. She whispered manipulatively, gazing up at him with wide eyes. "Did Mrs. Carlisle misunderstand our relationship? Is that why you are leaving?"

Dante stopped in his tracks. He felt a brief, jarring strangeness at hearing her use that formal title.

"It's your birthday," he dismissively told Chloe, checking the time on his watch. "You should just have fun."

With that, he left the villa quickly, his long strides eating up the distance to his car.

Chloe was left standing alone in the empty hallway, her eyes welling with bitterly disappointed tears. She clenched her fists at her sides, her manicured nails digging into her palms. Despite the lavish, limited-edition gift from the autumn collection he had bought her, she knew deep down that the mere existence of his secret wife kept her from truly possessing him. She could never claim the title of Dante's wife.

Back at the Pine House, Nora walked through the front door with Maya. Nora stood in the center of the living room and felt an utter lack of warmth in the home she had shared with Dante for three long years.

She walked slowly toward the bathroom. Her cold fingers lightly grazed the two matching sets of toiletries aligned on the marble counter.

"Nor, have you packed your things?" Maya gently asked, stepping up behind her.

Wiping away her silent tears, Nora turned from the counter and began to pack. She took nothing but her own meager, personal belongings. She packed a few worn clothes, her old pajamas, and some books she had bought herself. She strictly refused to touch a single item that didn't belong to her prior to the marriage. Any expensive dresses, jewelry, or gifts Dante had purchased for her were left exactly where they were. She wanted to erase her physical presence.

An hour later, an annoyed and impatient Dante rushed into the Pine House. He had sped to the hospital, disregarding several traffic lights, only to find he had missed her completely.

Finding the living room empty, his frustration boiled over. He stormed into the bathroom and punched the frosted glass wall, cursing loudly. "Damn it!"

Noting the single remaining toothbrush sitting pathetically in the cup, a suffocating dejection gripped his chest. Where there used to be two, there was now only his.

He washed the faint smear of blood off his bruised knuckles under the running faucet. He quickly reasoned this strange emotion away as normal psychological conditioning. After three years of a secret marriage, he told himself, even keeping a pet puppy would foster some level of biological attachment.

He firmly reminded himself that he did not love Nora. She was merely Dante's wife on paper. Their bond was a meaningless, transactional obligation. He didn't need love, and he definitely didn't need her complicating his life. Because she had always been obedient and sensible, never once raising her voice at him, this sudden rebellion felt jarring.

Assuming she was simply throwing an extended tantrum over her unfortunate miscarriage and just needed a few days at Maya's house to calm down, Dante confidently pushed open the door of their master bedroom.

As his eyes scanned the room, he froze in his tracks.