“Stop dreaming, Rosalie. I want you to regret marrying me for a lifetime.” Charlie regained his cold and composed demeanor. He seemed to see through my intentions. “You want each of us to do our own thing? Fine, we’ll do just that.”

I was stunned. Was he willing to accept my infidelity just to make me regret marrying him?

I never expected that being forced to marry me had caused such a deep psychological shadow in him, requiring extreme revenge to alleviate it.

As my mind temporarily short-circuited, Charlie suddenly reached out and hooked his arm around my waist, pressing my body tightly against his. He licked his lips, and his eyes were filled with a dark, mysterious gaze.

“Tell me, do you want me to help you with your breast development?”

“No!” I immediately pushed Charlie away.

People who are destined to separate shouldn’t have any unnecessary contact.

Charlie squinted his eyes and stared at me sharply. He was a clever person and probably already noticed my abnormal behavior in the past few days. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “Are you Rosalie’s twin sister?” he asked.

How could a woman who had loved him for ten years suddenly act so differently?

I forced a dry smile. “You guess.”

“Rosalie, our marriage is not that simple. Once it falls apart, there will be numerous disputes over interests. I don’t have time to play love and hate games with you. If you can’t bear the loneliness and want to go out, remember to use protection. I won’t acknowledge any illegitimate child,” he whispered in my ear without answering my question.

As someone who had already died once, I should have a calm and peaceful heart. But I don’t know where this impulse came from. I raised my hand and slapped Charlie hard, causing my palm to tingle.

Five fingerprints appeared on Charlie’s face after being slapped, but he still looked handsome.

How could he still look handsome after being slapped?

He slowly turned his head, his eyes filled with terrifying malice. It felt as though he could strangle me in the next second. My hand trembled, not out of fear, but because that slap had reopened my wound, and it was bleeding.

Charlie glanced at my hand, turned around, and left, leaving me with his cold back.

As I looked at the blood dripping from the gauze, I felt satisfied. It was better than bleeding inside like in my previous life.

After that slap, Charlie disappeared again. He was often spotted with various women in nightclubs and at work. It was unusual for him to be at home for a long time.

I counted the days. Only half a month was left. Charlie and Lauren would meet soon.

During this time, I frequented the Meeting Cafe, ordered a cup of black coffee, and silently watched Lauren work. Every furrow of her brows and every smile deeply imprinted into my eyes.

If I were a man, I would also like her.

“Lauren, your boyfriend is here to see you!” a colleague reminded Lauren.

I remembered that she had a boyfriend, but that poor boyfriend was no match for Charlie. Even if they had a passionate love at that time, it couldn’t withstand the club of power that separated them.

When I learned of Lauren’s existence, she had already broken up with her unfortunate ex-boyfriend, so I never investigated him.

The door of the café opened, and a young man in a white T-shirt and light blue jeans walked in. He wore a white baseball cap and carried a box of sandwiches, looking neat and refreshing.

I was stunned. The male college student?

“Jason, why are you here?” Lauren greeted him happily, like a little hamster welcoming its owner with food.

“I was handing out flyers nearby and decided to come see you. I brought you some sandwiches,” the college student said with a smile.

Lauren looked at him with crescent-shaped eyes.

This is what they call a married couple’s resemblance, but it was disrupted by Charlie, creating a great tragedy.

Lauren felt both happy and distressed. “Just come and see me, you work so hard distributing flyers. Don’t waste money on getting food for me.”

“Earning money is to feed snacks to Lauren.” The college guy had some good sweet-talking skills.

I thought for a moment and realized that Charlie had never bought snacks for me. I didn’t even like eating them.

Since Lauren was still working, the college guy didn’t stay for long. I sat in the corner, bowing my head, afraid that he might glance at me in the crowd and recognize me as the older woman who had tried to flirt with him at the nightclub a while ago.

After the college guy left, I quickly paid and left as well.

“Madam.” Tim always greeted me this way.

“Let’s go home.” I was exhausted. The more I lived, the more complicated my relationships became. I rubbed my temples; my brain cells couldn’t keep up.

Before even reaching a hundred meters, I spoke again, “Tim, let me drive.”

My reason was that I was itching to show off my driving skills.

I grabbed the steering wheel and finally spotted the college guy up ahead at the intersection, waiting for the traffic light. Seizing the opportunity, I stepped on the gas and rushed past him, successfully knocking him down to the ground.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I got scared and quickly got out of the car, wanting to help him. I saw blood streaming down his leg. He was seriously injured.

“It’s you!” The college guy endured the pain and shouted at me in surprise.

No wonder everyone loves college guys; they speak sweetly.

I instructed Tim, “Quickly, take him to the hospital.”

The college guy’s name was Jason Brown, a 21-year-old university student.

I sat on a bench in the hospital, looking at Jason’s contact number just saved on my phone. I felt a trace of melancholy. I wasn’t generous enough. The only revenge I could think of was to treat others as they treated me.

If Lauren could take away my husband, why couldn’t I take away her boyfriend? Even though she was forced initially, she eventually accepted Charlie when he completely lost his mind.

If she had never accepted him, he might have been more rational, considering that his efforts were not reciprocated.

The hospital was bustling with people. In my previous life, I had advanced-stage breast cancer with lymph node metastasis, and my last moments were spent in hospitals.

The doctor said that women who frequently get angry and suppress their emotions are more prone to breast cancer.

I covered all of Jason’s medical expenses and generously compensated for his nutrition and lost work fees.

His hospital stay would have hindered him from taking on part-time jobs.

I actually considered myself a good conversationalist. In just half a day, I had gathered enough information about Jason – coming from an ordinary family, both parents still alive, working in agriculture. He also had a married sister. No wonder his girlfriend was snatched by Charlie.

“Take care of yourself and get well soon. I’ll visit you often.” As I left, I displayed a friendly attitude and a gentle smile.

“I’ll be fine. I’m still young and healthy. I’ll recover quickly.” Jason revealed his pearly white teeth, naively responding.

Young and healthy? Why does it sound like he’s trying to tempt me?

Actually, I’m not that old. I’m only 27, not 72. But five years of repressed marriage and long-term unhealthy eating habits have made me feel old, both mentally and physically.

I nodded and then made a trip to the pharmacy on my way back, buying a lot of supplements.