Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell

A message lit up Stella Russell's phone, and along with it came a bunch of photos. Clothes scattered carelessly, two people holding each other tightly, messy bedsheets, and a hazy reflection in a fogged-up mirror...

Stella had seen this kind of thing before. This wasn't new to her.

One look at the big hand holding that woman's wrist, and Stella knew it was Marc's. Her husband. The same man she'd been married to for four years.

Then her eyes caught the date on the pictures, and her stomach sank. It was the same day as their wedding anniversary.

Marc had promised they'd spend the evening together, but he'd vanished for three days. All she got was a message from his assistant, saying he had some urgent business to handle.

"Urgent, huh?" Stella let out a cold chuckle. Clearly urgent-in someone else's bed. She then closed the message and called someone from her contact list.

The person picked up almost immediately.

"Stella," came the voice on the other end.

"I've made my decision about the classified research project," she said calmly.

"Who's the candidate?" they asked.

"Me."

A heavy silence stretched on the other end of the line, and then came a sharp, unwavering voice. "Don't joke around, Stella. You know what this means! Once you're in the classified research project, there's no turning back. No outside contact, no personal ties. You'll be officially listed as missing, and everything about your past will be wiped clean. A new identity will be created for you. So ask yourself-are you really ready to walk away from your family? From Marc?"

Stella's eyes fell on the framed wedding photo hanging nearby.

The smiles in it once made her feel warm, but now they just made her heart ache.

Marc's promises, which used to sound sweet, now felt cold and empty.

"I've made my decision," she said quietly. "I'll come by tomorrow to fill out the forms."

She ended the call before the person on the other end could say anything else. She didn't want to hear more. Her mind was already made up.

At that moment, a car pulled up outside. Moments later, Marc Walsh walked in, tall as ever, loosening his black tie while heading straight for the bathroom.

His jacket, tossed lazily on the hook, still carried the suggestive scent of FIRE2, the latest women's perfume of brand Vlexoot. Bold, heated-everything she apparently wasn't anymore.

Marc came out minutes later, dripping from a fast shower, wearing a gray bathrobe.

The robe hung loosely, showing off his chest and abs. Damp hair fell around his face, and the steam only made him look colder. Sharper.

Being the heir to the powerful Walsh family, Marc had everything-looks, status, and money.

Once, she'd been drawn to all of that. Now, it only made her sick.

"What's with that look?" Marc chuckled, sliding an arm around her waist, his voice low and teasing. "Miss me, babe?"

His hand slid down her side, but his touch made her skin crawl. She quickly pulled away.

Marc's hand stopped mid-move, his eyebrows knitting together. "What's going on? Are you mad at me?"

Stella took a breath, steadying herself. She wasn't going to waste energy on another fight.

Pushing down the ache in her heart, she leaned over and picked up a locked box from the drawer, handing it to him. "Here. A gift."

Inside? The divorce papers she'd already signed. Her final present. "You'll have to guess the password to open it," she said flatly.

Marc gave it a lazy look, thinking it was just another one of her odd little games, and tossed it onto the table. Then he pulled her close again, resting his chin on her shoulder. "You're the only gift I want."

Stella stiffened without meaning to. Marc noticed and gave a low chuckle.

"Still pouting because I missed our anniversary? Work's been nuts," he said while brushing a kiss on her cheek.

Then he let go, pulled a small box from his coat, and handed it to her.

"Do you like it?"

Inside was a hairpin-delicate and gold-plated, clearly custom-made with careful detail.

"I got this made just for you. You've always liked things like this, haven't you? Try it on."

His voice held that familiar mix of control and affection.

That tone had once been enough to melt her resolve.

People in Choria all believed Marc doted on his wife.

Stella had believed it as well.

If it weren't for the photos saved in her phone, she might've really been touched by the gift.

The girl in the pictures was in her twenties, pretty and confident, with flirtatious eyes and long, wavy hair pinned up using the same hairpin that now lay in front of Stella. The loose style revealed her smooth neck-marked with hickeys.

"There's only one like it in the world. You like it, don't you?" Marc gently lifted her hair, his rough fingers brushing against her skin in a way that was both familiar and far too intimate.

Stella's patience was wearing down fast-she nearly stabbed the damn thing straight into his chest.

She looked up at him, her eyes colder than usual. "The only one in the world, huh?"

Something about her felt off. Marc felt it in his gut. But the moment she smiled, that familiar softness returning, his doubt disappeared.

"If it's truly one of a kind, then yes, I love it." Stella calmly closed the box. "I've got work to do tonight. You go ahead and sleep."

She stepped out of his arms, holding the box tightly, not sparing him a single glance.

A cool draft slipped into his open robe, and for some reason, it left Marc feeling strangely hollow.

Tonight, she seemed colder than usual.

He glanced at the locked box on the table, and a strange calm returned to him.

After all, no one understood Stella's feelings better than he did. She loved him deeply... so deeply that no matter what he did, she'd never truly walk away.

Not now, not ever.

His phone buzzed over and over inside his robe pocket.

When he finally checked it, bold, flirty messages lit up the screen, making his throat tighten.

He gave a short reply, deleted everything, and carelessly tossed the phone aside before sinking into bed.

The soft, familiar scent lingering on the sheets eased his nerves, and before long, he was fast asleep.

Meanwhile, in the study, Stella quietly snapped a picture of the hairpin and sent it to a luxury resale boutique. "Sell this. ASAP."

She attached a bank account. "Send the money here."

It was the institute's official account.

Even something stained could still be put to good use.

...

By morning, when Marc opened his eyes, Stella was already fully dressed.

He leaned up on his elbows and motioned her over.

His voice was husky and soft with sleep. "Come here. Give me a hug."

Stella's fingers paused on her blouse buttons. She drew in a breath, her gaze clear and composed. "Something urgent came up at the institute. I've got to leave now. Didn't have time to make breakfast-you'll have to sort it out yourself today."

She grabbed her bag and walked out, just like last night-no glance, no hesitation.

Marc's hands froze mid-motion, a hollow feeling creeping back into his chest. He slowly rubbed his brows, trying to shake it off.

No matter how packed her schedule was, Stella never missed a morning. She always made sure breakfast was ready just in time. Then she'd gently wake him, coax a hug, and offer a morning kiss with that sweet smile.

But not today.

"Stella."

Just as she opened the door, she heard his voice behind her. It felt like something ripped through her chest-sharp and deep.

She turned slowly, her eyes steady. "Yes?"

Marc looked at her for a long moment. She seemed normal. Maybe it was just in his head. "Make sure you eat, even if things get hectic. And don't stay up too late. The Marina Horizon deal hit a snag, so I'll be working late this week. Don't wait up."

"Alright." Stella smiled.

With sunlight on her face, that warm smile and sparkling eyes reminded him of the girl who'd once taken his breath away.

Marc's heart skipped a beat. His voice turned even softer. "Once work calms down, let's go to Midstream Isle. Make up for the honeymoon we missed."

Her heart, already aching, felt like it was breaking all over again.

Back when they were planning the wedding, she'd carefully listed out places they'd travel to together-one for every anniversary as another honeymoon. She'd believed they'd stay in love forever.

But this year, Marc had taken another woman to that very place. The photos of them together were still in her phone.

Stella lowered her eyes and answered quietly, "Sure... when things settle down."

With that, she turned and walked out.

Not a flicker of warmth was left in her eyes.

And sadly for him, that chance would never come.