Chapter 2 We Are Divorced

"What's different now?" Harriet tried to hold back her tears as she continued to plead. "Tristan, I know Lark means the world to you, but the dead deserve respect, too. My grandma raised me, and I was in prison when she passed away. I couldn't be there for her in her final moments. I need to keep vigil for her. I can't let her be all alone with no one to send her off. Tristan, I'm begging you."

"Don't you have an uncle? I'll help out too. We'll make sure she has a dignified farewell."

"It's not about money," Harriet couldn't stop her tears. "She's already gone. No amount of money spent on the funeral will change that. I just want to give her a proper send-off. Tristan, if you agree, I'll give Lark as much blood as she needs in the future!"

"You think giving blood is your bargaining chip, something to trade?" Tristan looked down at her, his voice as cold as ice. "Harriet, you owe Lark. If it weren't for you, she wouldn't be in a wheelchair."

Harriet closed her eyes in pain.

A year ago, Lark fell down the stairs and injured her spine, leaving her paralyzed from the waist down. She accused Harriet of pushing her.

No one in the Lancaster family believed Harriet. There was no surveillance footage, no witnesses, and she couldn't prove her innocence.

In the end, her husband Tristan told her, "Harriet, Lark is in unbearable pain. If you don't accept legal punishment, she'll never be able to let it go. Hurting someone to the point of disability carries a sentence of three to ten years. Lark is kind; she just wants you to serve a year as a warning."

Harriet found it laughable.

Of course, she didn't agree and demanded a police investigation.

But then Lark produced a video showing Harriet pushing her down the stairs, sealing her fate.

She would never forget the look in the Lancaster family's eyes when the video played.

Disgust, hatred, as if breathing the same air as her was filthy.

In the end, Tristan's bodyguards took Harriet back to prison.

She spent two days in bed, heartbroken and weakened from blood loss.

On the third day, in the prison's activity room, the TV was broadcasting Lark's birthday party.

The CEO of the Lancaster Group had spent a hundred million dollars on Lark's birthday.

On the screen, Lark, though in a wheelchair, looked pure and beautiful.

Tristan stood by her side, attentively helping her with her food, his expression gentle.

They were a perfect couple, a match made in heaven.

Harriet's tears fell like rain.

Cleo was being buried today. Tristan had promised to help with the funeral, but here he was, celebrating Lark's birthday.

At that moment, Harriet finally understood.

If someone didn't love you, no matter what you did for them, you would never get a response.

Harriet had a secret: she had loved Tristan for ten years.

To her, Tristan was once an unattainable god, and she was just an ordinary person among the masses.

They were like two parallel lines that would never intersect, until a car accident changed their fates.

Three years ago, Tristan was severely injured in a car accident and became comatose.

The Lancaster family sought out the best doctors, but to no avail.

Tristan's grandmother, Haven Lancaster, believed in astrology and suggested that marriage might bring him good fortune.

Lark, who was engaged to Tristan, was suddenly kidnapped at that time.

With the auspicious day for marriage approaching, Haven had to find another girl whose astrological sign matched Tristan's. She inadvertently discovered Harriet, who was working part-time as a caregiver at the Lancaster family estate.

As part of the arrangement, Harriet's sick grandmother, Cleo, could be treated for free at a top hospital owned by the Lancaster Group.

The hospital was the best in Athenia and very expensive, unaffordable for ordinary people.

Harriet agreed without much hesitation.

But no one knew that she agreed not just for Cleo, but also to fulfill her own love.

Because before that, she had already loved Tristan for seven years, so much that she was willing to take care of him even if he never woke up.

A month later, Tristan miraculously woke up.

When he learned that the marriage was supposed to bring him good fortune, Tristan was furious and immediately demanded a divorce.

But when he accidentally found out that Harriet had rare Rh-negative O-type blood, he dropped the idea of divorce.

From then on, Harriet became a mobile blood bank for Lark.

To make Tristan happy, Harriet never complained.

For those two years, she took care of him, his family, and tried her best to be a good wife, until she was falsely accused and sent to prison.

Ten years, a whole decade.

Her purest love, her most selfless devotion, all given to Tristan. And what did she get in return?

He only had eyes for Lark, completely disregarding her.

Maybe she was wrong. She shouldn't have been so naive, hoping that one day he would look away from Lark and notice her.

The day Harriet was released from prison, it was raining.

No one came to pick her up. She took several buses to get back to Cloud Bay, where Tristan lived, soaked to the bone.

She unlocked the door with her fingerprint and walked in, only to see Tristan coming down the stairs.

Compared to Tristan's immaculate appearance, Harriet looked utterly disheveled.

Tristan saw her and was surprised. "What are you doing here?"

Harriet's fingers trembled. "I was released today."

"Sorry, I forgot." Tristan stood in front of her for two seconds. "Get some rest. I have to go out."

"Tristan," Harriet called out to him. "I need to talk to you."

Tristan checked his watch. "I'm in a hurry. Can it wait till I get back?"

As he walked past her, Harriet grabbed his sleeve. "Just one sentence."

Tristan stopped, a hint of impatience on his handsome face. "Go ahead."

Harriet looked at his perfect profile, a faint smile on her face, but her tone was resolute. "Tristan, let's get a divorce."

Tristan was stunned and turned to look at her. "Just because I didn't pick you up from prison, you want a divorce?"

"That's not the reason." Harriet forced a smile. "I really want a divorce. When you have time, let's get the paperwork done."

"Harriet, I don't have the time or patience for your drama right now." Tristan's face darkened as he pushed her hand away. "Go take a shower and clear your head."

Tristan left, and Harriet stood there, staring into space.

Was she not clear-headed?

No, she was very clear-headed.

Clearer than ever.

Harriet went upstairs to draw a bath and turned on her phone after charging it.

After a month, she had received a lot of messages on Twitter, but none from Tristan.

Harriet casually scrolled through her feed, then her fingers paused.

A few minutes ago, Lark had posted: [Being there is the longest confession of love.]

The picture was a selfie of her and Tristan. Tristan was peeling an apple, and Lark was smiling at the camera, radiant as ever.