At that time, he had been irritable because he was forced to marry her and had written this "Divorce Agreement."

[Due to incompatibility of personality and breakdown of feelings, I voluntarily divorce Sienna. Property belongs to the female party; we owe each other nothing.]

The handwriting was sloppy, but the signature and thumbprint were real.

Back then, she had cried and hidden the paper, thinking that as long as she was good enough, she could spend a lifetime with him.

Now it seemed, this was the only mercy he had left her in that marriage.

Sienna took the agreement to a law firm and had it notarized.

Once the cooling-off period passed, as long as she took this document to the Civil Affairs Bureau, she and Julian would be completely finished.

Chapter 3

After leaving the law firm, a torrential rain began to fall.

Sienna didn’t bother with an umbrella; she walked back to the Fu villa soaking wet.

As soon as she stepped inside, the room spun, and she collapsed in the entryway.

A high fever burned for a day and a night.

In her dreams, she was filled with all the grievances of the past three years.

On her birthday, Julian promised to eat with her, but as soon as Chloe called to say the power was out and she was scared, he left.

When she underwent surgery for appendicitis, he was away on a business trip abroad. Yet, Chloe posted photos on her social media of Julian accompanying her to relax at a resort—it turned out his business trip had ended long ago.

When she woke up, her throat was parched.

Julian was sitting in a chair by the bed, looking at his phone. When he saw she was awake, he put the phone away, his tone carrying his usual lecturing manner: "Awake? You’re not a child anymore. You finished your check-up and didn't take a taxi, insisting on walking home in the rain. Who are you trying to guilt-trip?"

Sienna stared at the ceiling, her voice hoarse: "I want water."

Julian poured her a glass and handed it to her. Seeing her pale complexion, his tone softened slightly: "I’ve already criticized the driver for not looking after you. Stop throwing a temper tantrum. Chloe can’t function without people right now; she was badly frightened this time."

Sienna finished the water and placed the glass on the nightstand: "Mr. Fu, this is our home. If you are worried about Chloe, you can go live at her place. You don't need to stay here guarding me; I don't care for it."

"Sienna!" Julian’s brow furrowed tightly: "Are you ever going to stop? I already said I would compensate you. Next time, if there is danger again, I will definitely save you first, okay?"

Sienna closed her eyes.

Next time?

A person only has one life; how could there be a next time?

Furthermore, the child in her womb—the child she hadn’t even had the chance to tell him about—had already been lost in the ruins.

It was precisely because he had saved Chloe first that he had missed the optimal window for rescue.

Seeing that Sienna didn’t speak, Julian assumed she had acquiesced, and he let out a sigh of relief.

He glanced at his watch, hesitated for a moment, and then spoke: "Since your fever has broken, could I trouble you with one thing?"

Sienna didn’t open her eyes: "Speak."

"Chloe hasn't had an appetite these past two days. She can't eat anything and really wants that hand-pulled noodle dish she used to have at the clubhouse. You're the only one in our house who can make that flavor. Could you... get up and make her a bowl? Just one bowl, to help her get her appetite back."

Sienna snapped her eyes open, staring fixedly at Julian.

"Do you know why I learned how to make those hand-pulled noodles?" Her voice was as faint as a ghost's.

Julian was stunned: "Isn't it because I love eating them?"

Sienna laughed, laughing until tears fell.

In the first year of their marriage, Julian had a sensitive stomach and was a picky eater. To cater to his tastes, she had spent a long time learning from famous chefs, her hands covered in calluses, just to learn how to make those chewy, hand-pulled noodles.

Every time she watched him eat every last bit, she felt happy.

It wasn't until later that she saw a status update on Chloe’s private social media account: "I miss the hand-pulled noodles I used to make for Julian the most. He said they were the most delicious flavor in the world."

So, he didn't love noodles.

He was using that bowl of noodles to miss someone else.

"Fine." Sienna pulled back the covers and got out of bed: "I’ll make them."

This bowl of noodles would serve as the final homage to her own foolishness over the last three years.

Julian hadn't expected her to agree so readily, and he felt a bit guilty, reaching out to support her: "You’re still weak, why don't—"

"No need." Sienna avoided his hand and swayed toward the kitchen.

An hour later, a steaming bowl of hand-pulled noodles was placed inside a thermal container.

Julian picked up the container, looked at the deathly pale Sienna, and with rare warmth, said: "Thank you for your hard work. When you've recovered, I'll take you to Sanya to relax."

Leaning against the counter, Sienna held a sharp fruit knife, peeling an apple without looking up: "Go quickly. If the noodles get soggy, she won't like eating them."

Julian left.

Sienna watched the closed door, and the knife in her hand slipped, cutting a gash into her fingertip.

Beads of blood welled up, but she couldn’t feel the pain.

She took out her phone and dialed the number etched into her memory.

"Hello, is this Mr. Mason? I’m here to fulfill our appointment."

Chapter 4

This matter had been like a thorn stuck in Sienna’s heart for a long time.

Whenever she thought about how she had practiced her cooking skills for years just so he could use his taste buds to reminisce about another woman, her stomach churned.

But now, perhaps because her heart had died completely, hearing such a request actually felt somewhat amusing.

She didn't say anything more and didn't even show a glimmer of emotion as she turned into the kitchen.

Half an hour later, the noodles were done, and the familiar aroma of scallion oil filled the room.

Sienna was pale, her forehead covered in cold sweat. Her body, having just broken a fever, still felt floaty, and she had to lean on the marble countertop just to stand.

Julian followed the scent inside, looking at the bowl with a complicated expression.

He watched Sienna’s frail back and felt a rare pang of guilt.

"Thank you," he softened his voice, "Once Chloe is better, I'll take my annual leave and take you to Yunnan. Haven't you always wanted to go to Erhai Lake?"

Sienna was just about to say "No need" when Julian’s phone rang—it was Chloe’s exclusive ringtone.

A sobbing voice came from the other end: "Julian... my stomach hurts... I'm so hungry..."

The warmth on Julian’s face solidified instantly. He glanced at Sienna and moved with some impatience to pack the thermal container.

"I'm coming right now, don't cry," he said, coaxing her while holding the phone.

Just as he was pouring the hot broth into the container, his rush caused his elbow to knock into the electric kettle that had just finished boiling!

With a "crash," the scalding water poured down, most of it splashing onto Sienna’s feet and calves, which were only covered by home slippers!

"Hiss—" Sienna let out a muffled grunt of pain, stumbling backward and hitting the refrigerator.

Her fair skin instantly reddened and swelled, blistering.

Julian was startled and instinctively put down the container: "Are you okay?"

But even as he asked, his eyes remained fixed on the container to see if it had spilled, and his toes were already pointed toward the door; his mind had clearly already flown to the hospital.

Sienna looked down at her scalded feet, the burning, piercing pain reaching deep into her bones, but the absurdity of it all overshadowed everything else.

She shook her head, swallowing her cry of pain: "I'm fine. I won't die."

Julian observed her reaction, checked his watch, and finally sighed: "There's burn ointment in the house; apply some yourself. Chloe is still waiting, so I’m leaving."

With that, he took the container and strode away without looking back.

The door slammed shut, knocking a speck of dust off the entryway.

Sienna limped back to the living room and found the medical kit.

There was no burn ointment left; the last time Julian had injured himself playing ball, it had been used up and not replaced.

She sat on the cold floor, looking at her red, blistered feet, and calmly took out a needle. She popped the blisters, then used iodine for a simple disinfection.