Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

"Don't kid yourself thinking he's into you. Even if he was, he wouldn't want you. Here in Greenwood, even the women I pass on, nobody dares to pick up the slack."

Rosemary was so mad she could spit nails. She spun around and glared at him, "If you think that excuse bruises your ego, feel free to pick another one. I get nauseous just looking at you, have zero physiological reaction, can't get satisfied by this sexual life!"

"Rosemary," Maxwell's eyes suddenly swirled with a rage that could tear someone apart; he called her name through clenched teeth.

Fearing he might do something rash in his anger, Rosemary deflated and softened her stance, "Whatever the reason, we're headed for splitsville eventually. I mean, look at us, what couple lives like this?"

Thinking back on those three agonizing years of marriage, the smiles she offered only to be met with his cold indifference, the meals trashed without a glance, a wave of grievances welling up inside her, unstoppable.

Maxwell's gaze was steady on her, her eyes rimmed with red yet stubborn as a gamecock. His Adam's apple bobbed, suddenly annoyed, he just shut his eyes and lay down, "Sleep time."

With the man holding her, her face pressed against his chest, she was breathing in nothing but Maxwell's scent; this was the first time he’d held her in their bed since they got hitched. Before, they slept separately, with at least a one-person gap between them.

The man had just taken a shower, his body cool but quickly warming up, scorching Rosemary like she was hugging a hot water bottle.

Held like this, she was anything but comfy. She squirmed, trying to turn over and face away from him. Maxwell frowned, his voice rough and slightly raised, "Stop wriggling, sleep."

Rosemary, nearly sweating from the heat and oblivious to the odd note in his tone, protested, "Stop hugging me; it's uncomfortable."

Her leg instinctively lifted, trying to push him away a bit, but her knee accidentally bumped into something, and she froze!

Maxwell's voice was calm, "Mrs. Templeton, I'm just not into you but it doesn't mean I can't perform. If you keep moving, I'll take it as an invitation. Plain water might be bland, but when there's no choice, it quenches thirst."

If Maxwell ever winded up dead in the boonies, it'd be because of that mouth of his! But Rosemary's eyes fell on the red mark on his neck, almost gone, probably invisible by tomorrow.

"Go find the woman who left that mark on your neck; stop grossing me out!"

Almost as soon as she finished speaking, Maxwell’s lips found her neck, not just a peck, but a sucking kiss.

Rosemary winced in pain, frowning and pushing him hard, "Maxwell, have you lost your mind?"

He let her go with the flow, "You've never dated before me, have you?"

Rosemary didn't get where he was going, and just clenched her teeth hard, "Had I known I'd end up with you, I'd have dated different guys every week."

She touched the spot where he'd kissed; that nutjob, definitely left a mark. It was summer; all she wears were low-cut tops, no hiding it.

Maxwell just snorted, "No experience with love, I'll teach you; this is what a hickey looks like. Don't get dirty thoughts just because you see a red mark on someone's neck."

Rosemary was taken aback; what was he implying? That the mark on his neck wasn't a hickey?

But whatever it was, he had no right to treat her like this; they were getting divorced! Rosemary turned her back on him and stopped engaging, her anger pushing her to close her eyes and force sleep.

Maxwell watched her turned back; had to admit she was incredibly soft. The heat in his heart flaring up, he fought down the sudden desire, and steadied his breath.

The next day was the weekend; Rosemary and Maxwell went to the hospital together to pick up Pearl's medical report.

The doctor's brows furrowed as he examined the report. Rosemary had an ominous feeling, "Doc, is there a problem?"

"From the test results, the patient has hypertensive heart disease caused by long-term high blood pressure. The frequent fevers are likely due to severe depletion in her youth, leading to low immunity."

Rosemary caught the gist: heart disease.

"Can it be treated?"

"Hypertensive heart disease is hard to cure because the cause is difficult to eliminate. We can only slow its progression. The patient needs to watch her diet, exercise moderately, and, most importantly, avoid emotional stress."

In other words, a chronic condition that required constant vigilance.

Exiting the hospital, Rosemary let out a long sigh, glanced at the time, and wished it was Monday so she could make a trip to City Hall.

"When exactly are you planning to take care of the documents with me?" She asked impatiently.

"So eager?" Têxt © NôvelDrama.Org.

Was this eagerness? Wasn't this long overdue? Rosemary bit her lip to keep her temper in check, suspecting Maxwell was dragging his feet on purpose, "I worry Victoria won't wait. She finally comes back from abroad, and if you don’t keep an eye on her closely, you might lose her again."

Maxwell shot her a frosty look, "She’s not a pet needing frequent watch."

Rosemary thought, “Isn't that just what you two are, a pair of mongrels?”

Of course, she didn't dare say that out loud, afraid of getting hit.

Soon Jason drove up, Maxwell told her to get in, but she stood her ground.

"I'll take a cab." Rosemary frowned, issuing her ultimatum, "One week is my final line. We've been married three years. I hope we can part amicably; not end up in court for the whole town to gossip about."

"Are you threatening me?" Maxwell's eyes narrowed, a frosty edge to his look, "If I don't agree to the divorce, you'll sue me?"

Rosemary stayed silent, a tacit agreement to his assumption. He scoffed, "Leaving so much stuff at home, hoping to come back anytime?" His impatience showed, the brows furrowed, "Playing hard to get is overdone and just annoying."

Rosemary rolled her eyes; how could he still think like this at this stage? She couldn't help her sarcasm, "Maxwell, have you ever cleaned your face growing up?" Thick-skinned much!

"That stuff? It's all junk to me. Chuck it or burn it for all I care."

Maxwell snorted, "You're talking divorce and still expect me to lift a finger for you? Clean up your own mess; show me you're serious. Then we can talk divorce."

"Why not let Sandy toss it?"

Sandy was the maid at Meadowlark Retreat, a real whiz at dealing with trash.

Maxwell gave a fake smile that didn't reach his eyes, "Rosemary, you haven't paid a dime towards the household expenses since we got hitched. Every paycheck around here comes out of my account. What makes you think you've got the right to order my hired help around?"

"Fine, I'll get the movers to pick it up."

"I don't want strangers snooping around my place."

Rosemary's eyes twitched in irritation, "This won't do; that won't do. What the heck do you want, Maxwell?"

He stayed silent, looking down on her like some lofty god, with a look that screamed “are you an idiot?”

She exhaled sharply, her temper flaring, "If you're so picky, why not take it up a notch? Don't live above ground - move underground. Ghosts float around without touching a thing; won’t dirty your precious home."

Maxwell's face turned thunderous in a flash, "You have a death wish?"