Chapter 20

"Try relating to each other differently?" Stanley let out a derisive laugh, though his eyes held no trace of amusement. "What's left between us to relate to?"

Liam swirled his glass, cutting straight to the point. "That's exactly why you need a fresh start—because you never had a real foundation to begin with. You think a marriage certificate makes someone yours forever? Relationships require effort, Mr. Smith."

Seeing Stanley's impatient expression, Liam laid it out plainly. "Start now. It's late, and she's at the hospital watching over her grandfather—she definitely hasn't eaten properly. Go bring her something."

"Me?" Stanley's brow furrowed deeper, as if he'd heard something absurd. "I'm supposed to bring her a midnight snack?"

The idea seemed more humiliating than signing a contract that would lose him millions.

But Liam's words dropped like a stone into a still pond, sending ripples through Stanley's mind.

"If you don't want the divorce, then act like it." Liam looked at him with unprecedented seriousness. "It's better than sulking around like some bitter spouse who can't accept defeat."

Stanley said nothing more. He drained the rest of his whiskey irritably, grabbed his suit jacket, and left the bar without a word.

The car glided through the night. He should have driven straight home, but his hands seemed to move of their own accord, turning the wheel until he pulled up outside a twenty-four-hour Hong Kong-style restaurant.

He sat in the car, staring at the bright neon sign for a long while before finally getting out with a dark expression.

When he appeared outside the hospital room carrying two elegant takeout boxes, Jessica was resting with her eyes closed on a bench in the corridor. She was a light sleeper—her eyes snapped open immediately at the sound of footsteps.

Seeing it was Stanley, clear surprise flickered in her gaze.

"What are you doing here?" She stood up, her voice raspy from a long, sleepless night.

Stanley held out the bag, avoiding her eyes, his tone stiff as if they'd just finished an argument. "Brought you something to eat."

Jessica looked at the paper bag with the restaurant's logo without taking it.

Worried about waking her grandfather, she took Stanley's arm and led him toward the window at the end of the corridor.

"I don't need it. You can take it back." She tried to decline politely.

Stanley acted as if he hadn't heard her, opening the containers himself.

A rich, savory aroma immediately filled the air—seafood congee loaded with premium ingredients, accompanied by delicate osmanthus rice cakes.

He handed her a spoon, his tone commanding. "Eat."

Jessica's gaze fell on the congee studded with shrimp and scallops. The familiar dull ache in her stomach seemed to intensify.

She slowly raised her eyes to meet his, her voice calm and flat. "I don't eat late-night snacks."

She paused, then added, as if stating a fact that had nothing to do with him, "And I don't like seafood. Any seafood."

Stanley's hand froze mid-air, the spoon suspended.

His expression was a sight to behold—shock and embarrassment transforming into humiliated irritation.

He threw the spoon back into the container with force. Droplets of congee splattered out.

"Why didn't you say so earlier?!" His instinctive accusation carried his habitual tendency to blame others for everything.

Jessica looked at him, her eyes as hollow as a stagnant pond.

"You never asked."

Those three words landed like a silent slap across his face.

Yes—he'd never asked. Three years of marriage, and he didn't even know she couldn't eat seafood.

The atmosphere became excruciatingly awkward.

All Jessica felt was a hollow sense of disappointment.

This was so typical of him—impulsive gestures that never actually addressed what she needed.

Like this midnight snack. It looked like concern, but it was really just a performance to prove himself after Liam had pushed him into action.

She didn't want to make the scene more uncomfortable, so she silently picked up a rice cake and took a small bite.

It was sweet and soft, yet utterly tasteless to her.

Seeing her finally eat something, the tightness in Stanley's chest eased slightly, though the embarrassment of being seen through made him deeply uncomfortable.

To break the suffocating silence, he forced a conversation.

"So, what do you... usually like to eat?" The moment the words left his mouth, even he found them absurd.

"Anything light is fine." Jessica's answered concisely.

"Besides work, how do you spend your time?" He tried again.

"Reading. Watching movies."

The exchange felt like a tedious interview with a difficult client.

Stanley suddenly realized how pathetically little he knew about her.

He couldn't even remember her birthday clearly—only that it was sometime in autumn.

An even more absurd thought surfaced, and he asked almost involuntarily: "How old are you, exactly?"

Jessica stopped chewing.

She looked up at him, her gaze devoid of surprise or mockery—only a numbness so profound she might have been looking at a stranger asking for directions.

"Twenty-six."

She enunciated the words clearly, finding it grimly laughable.

A husband of three years who didn't know his wife's age.

But what did it matter? They were practically about to be divorced. What was the point of remembering these things now?

She placed the remaining half of the rice cake back in the container and stood up, her tone distant and polite. "Thank you for the snack. I'm full. I need to check on Grandpa."

Watching her resolute retreat, Stanley felt an unprecedented panic seize him. Almost on instinct, the moment she turned away, he grabbed her wrist.

"Wait."

Jessica was forced to stop. She looked back, puzzled.

The hospital corridor was silent and empty at night, the green glow of a distant exit sign casting flickering shadows in his deep-set eyes.

He said nothing, just stared at her, then suddenly leaned down.

A cool kiss landed lightly on her lips.

It was very light and brief—hardly a real kiss at all. Just a fleeting touch before he pulled away.

Jessica froze completely, every muscle rigid, even her breathing forgotten.

Stanley straightened, his thumb unconsciously rubbing against her wrist, his dark eyes locked on hers, his voice lower and rougher than she'd ever heard it.

"I'll remember. Everything you just told me."

He watched her shocked speechlessness, his Adam's apple bobbing as he asked slowly, deliberately, one word at a time: "Still insist on divorce?"

Jessica's mind went blank.

Her lips still held the trace of his cool touch, carrying a hint of tobacco and whiskey—overbearing and unfamiliar.

The kiss had come without warning, light as a feather, yet it had smashed a massive hole through the frozen lake of her heart.

She stared at him dazedly, seeing herself reflected in his dark eyes—eyes that held emotions she couldn't decipher, like churning depths of a dark sea.