Hate Is an Illusion, Love Is Absurd

In a split second, Jordan Skinner suppressed his panic. He smoothly stepped forward, draping his jacket over Giselle Parson's bare shoulders.

"You leave first," he told her, his voice tight but controlled. "I'll explain everything to her."

Giselle slowly pulled the jacket around herself, entirely unbothered. As she brushed past me, a wave of familiar perfume hit my senses.

It was a rare, limited-edition fragrance. Just two days ago, I had stood under a blistering sun for hours just to buy it, leaving my face painfully sunburned.

Giselle had dabbed soothing ointment onto my skin, scolding me for being an idiot, though a smile had played on her lips. "Still, you brought this at the perfect time. I'm meeting someone important in two days. This will come in handy."

I had grinned like a fool, thrilled that I could make her happy. Only now did the sickening reality sink in: the "important person" she couldn't wait to impress was my husband, who had supposedly rushed back from a business trip to celebrate our anniversary.

My agonizing effort had been transformed into their foreplay. Tears stung my eyes. I instinctively reached out, my fingers trembling as I snagged the hem of her jacket.

Giselle didn't look guilty in the slightest. Instead, she smiled and gently wiped my tears away. "Honey, this is your private time with Jordan now. It's not appropriate for me to stay."

One by one, she pried my fingers from her clothes and walked out of the office.

By the time I looked back, Jordan was already fully dressed. He pulled me gently toward the sofa, guiding me to sit before crouching in front of me.

He lifted my foot, resting it on his knee, and began using a handkerchief to wipe away the chicken soup that had splashed onto my pants leg.

"Next time you decide to make soup, just have the housekeeper deliver it to the office," he murmured, his voice as gentle as ever. "Don't tire yourself out over things like this, alright?"

His demeanor was so flawless that for a fraction of a second, I wondered if the horrific scene I had just witnessed was just a delusion.

I pulled my foot back from his knee, my throat burning. "Why? Why would you do this with Giselle? You know she is the only true friend I have in this world."

Jordan stood up and sat beside me, a trace of helplessness softening his sharp features.

"I'm a man. I have physical needs," he reasoned. "On our wedding day, I swore to you that I would never force you into anything. You are terrified of pain, and you are still traumatized by what happened on that mountain.

"In three years of marriage, we've barely been intimate. But I've never pressured you, have I?"

The sheer logic of his words made my heart ache with a suffocating weight. "So, because of that, you pressured her? Weren't you two supposed to hate each other? Besides, she..."

My eyes drifted involuntarily to the hearing aid nestled inside his right ear. Years ago, Giselle had smashed a bat into the side of his head, shattering his eardrum. He would need the device for the rest of his life.

Jordan offered a dismissive smile and reached out to pinch my cheek. "You're too innocent to understand. Giselle and I are simply using each other to scratch an itch. It's transactional. The only person who actually occupies my heart is you."

He took my hand and pressed it against his chest, letting me feel his heartbeat. But my fingers brushed over the fresh scratch marks left by Giselle's new manicure.

I yanked my hand back, my nose stinging with unshed tears. "Jordan, let's get a divorce."

I had always been a little slow. Back when people dropped bones into my bowl, I would happily thank them.

It was Giselle who eventually lost her temper. She marched over to kick their trays into the dirt and screamed at them before turning back to call me a hopeless idiot.

And it was Jordan who had emptied a pot of scalding soup over the ringleader's head, fiercely showing me how to strike back.

I had stared at them blankly, not really understanding what an "idiot" was and never quite learning how to fight back. But even with my slow mind, I knew one universal truth: people only slept with someone they loved.

They had protected me for ten years. It was my turn to return the favor and get out of their way.