Chapter 137: This isn’t love.

He looked at me then, really looking at me, and for the first time, there was something other than anger in his eyes—confusion, maybe, or recognition of the madness that had touched us both. He stared at me, as if trying to piece together who I really was—what I had become for the sake of love and survival.

“Tristan,” I continued, “you and I... we’re both lost in some way. But you can’t let that anger blind you forever. It’s not just Jacob’s fault, and it’s not just yours. We’ve both made choices we can’t undo, but we have to live with them. Otherwise, it’ll destroy us too.”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment, his gaze drifting back to the window and to the woman kneeling in the garden. The weight of the past hung between us, but I knew my words had reached him, even if just a little.

“I want to have our wedding in that garden,” Tristan said, pointing toward the wide, open backyard where a gazebo stood under the shade of a sprawling oak tree. His tone was unwavering, full of certainty, as if this was already a decided matter. His words hung in the air, undeniable.

I stared at him, trying to gauge whether this was another attempt to manipulate me—or if it was something deeper. Was Tristan truly obsessed with me, or was this just another move in his game to break Jacob? The thought twisted in my mind.

His eyes didn’t waver from the garden, as though he could already picture it—us standing beneath that oak tree, bound in marriage. I could feel the intensity behind his words, but my heart raced with a mixture of unease and confusion.

“Tristan...” I began, searching for the right words. “You don’t really want this... not like this.”

He turned to face me, his expression unreadable. “I do,” he said quietly. “I want you as my wife."

But was it really me he wanted—or was this just another way to push Jacob into madness to finally claim victory over him?

“Marriage won’t fix what’s broken,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady. “Not in us. Not in any of this.”

Tristan’s expression darkened as he took a step closer, his voice low and threatening. “Do you really want to see your mother or not?”

“Yes, of course I do,” I replied, instinctively stepping back, my heart racing. “But you can’t force me to marry you, Tristan.”

“Even if Jacob dies?” His tone was unnervingly calm, as if he were stating a simple fact.

My breath caught in my throat. “What happened to you, Tristan?” I asked, anxiety tightening my chest. “I’m already married. Why can’t you accept that? I’ve told you before—even if Jacob divorces me, I won’t marry you. You’ve always been just a friend.”

His eyes were cold as he spoke, his voice hard. “You’re in my world now, Rose. I’m the only one who knows where your mother is. And I’m the only one who can decide what happens to her."

My anger flared. Then what do I have to do to make you take me to her?! I demanded, my voice trembling with frustration.

“Marry me,” he said simply, his gaze unyielding. “That’s your only choice. Divorce Jacob, and marry me.”

A deep sorrow settled in my chest as I remembered the letter I had sent to Jacob and the lies I had written. Regret gnawed at me, but beneath it, a fragile hope still flickered. I prayed that Jacob wouldn’t believe what I’d said in that letter—that he’d trust what I had told him about Tristan being nothing more than a friend.

"Fine!" I snapped, my voice shaking with rage. "If that's what you want, then let's get married. But you have to take me to my mother first!" Desperation gripped me, and tears began streaming down my cheeks. The Tristan I once knew, my friend, was long gone—replaced by this cold, heartless version of him.

Tristan stood there silently, watching me cry, his face unreadable. I couldn’t understand why he had become so cruel, why he was no longer the man I used to know.

"Why can’t you just love me, Rose?" His voice softened suddenly, the edge of malice giving way to something vulnerable.

"Because you can't command someone’s heart, Tristan." My voice cracked as I pleaded with him, trying one last time to reach the person I once cared for. "How many times do I have to tell you? Jacob owns my heart, and no one—not you, not anyone—can change that."

Before Tristan could respond, the door swung open, and the elderly woman from the garden stepped inside, her anxious eyes landing on us. Her face hardened as soon as she saw Tristan. "What are you doing here, Tristan?" she demanded in a cold, unforgiving tone. I could see the disdain in her gaze. He wasn’t lying—his own mother loathed him.

Tristan’s defiance faltered under her gaze. He didn’t say a word at first, just stared at her, his eyes filled with something like pleading—like he was silently begging for forgiveness.

"I’ve found the woman I’ve been searching for, Mother," he finally said, his voice small, almost like a child’s. "And I want to marry her in the garden."

The elderly woman stopped a few feet from him, her expression one of disgust. "I don’t care if you marry or not. What I want is for you to leave. Forever." Her voice cracked with the weight of her words. "You committed an unforgivable sin. You let them kill your sister."

"Mother, I couldn’t stop Laura from ending her life!" Tristan’s voice wavered, his earlier coldness replaced by anguish. "Jacob led her to believe he’d marry her, but he betrayed her and pushed her to commit suicide.”

His mother’s eyes filled with tears, her sorrow palpable. "Who told you that Laura committed suicide?" Her voice trembled with pain. "Laura was already dead before she jumped off that cliff."

Tristan stood frozen, his face drained of color as his mother’s words hit him like a physical blow. "What... what are you saying?" His voice was barely above a whisper. His mind reeled, trying to process what his mother had just revealed.

The truth of Laura's death had always haunted him, but he had clung to the belief that it was suicide.

"The doctors who examined her," his mother said her voice harsh but laced with sorrow, "gave their final report after the autopsy. It wasn’t suicide, Tristan. Laura didn’t just jump." She took a breath, her voice trembling. "She was murdered."

"Murdered?" he repeated, his disbelief turning into horror.

"Yes," his mother continued, her eyes brimming with tears. "There was poison in her system, and they found a stab wound in her heart—an ice pick. Someone killed her before they made it look like she took her own life."

Tristan staggered back a step, feeling the weight of guilt and confusion crash down on him. Everything he thought he knew was unraveling before his eyes. His mind raced—who could have done this? Why? He had blamed Jacob, but now the picture was more sinister, more twisted than he had ever imagined.

"I didn’t know," Tristan whispered his voice breaking. "I didn’t know she was murdered. All this time, I thought..."

His mother’s expression softened. "None of us knew, Tristan. But the truth is out now." She stepped toward him, her voice growing firmer. "We’ve been living with this lie for too long. It’s time to face what really happened."

Tristan’s hands clenched into fists, his mind swirling with rage, guilt, and despair.

"It was Jacob who killed her," Tristan said, his voice cold and resolute. His eyes flashed with conviction, as though he had already decided the truth. His accusation hung heavy in the air, and I could feel the weight of his obsession growing darker. He wasn't just searching for justice—he was trying to destroy Jacob for his own reasons.

I knew then that I had to stop him.

"Tristan, no," I said, stepping forward, my voice trembling but firm. "You can't keep blaming Jacob without proof. You're twisting this into something it's not, and you're doing it for me, aren't you? You want to drive him out of my life."

Tristan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t deny it. He just stared at me, the intensity of his emotions barely contained. "I’m not making this up, Rose," he said, his tone growing more desperate. "Jacob ruined Laura. He led her on, and now he’s doing the same to you. Don’t you see? He’s a danger to everyone around him, and he needs to pay for what he did."

"Stop it!" I snapped, my anger flaring. "You’re not doing this for Laura. You’re doing this because you want me to hate him, to push him away. But this isn’t how you win me, Tristan. This isn’t love."

"No more talking," Tristan cut me off. "You're going to marry me. You have no choice, Rose."