No, Zayn had been gentle to her on that night.
He might have been domineering, sharp, controlling, and confident—but when it came to her, he was always gentle.
That was exactly why she had fallen for him.
She had thought she had finally found someone who truly admired and loved her.
But now, the man standing before her felt like a stranger.
How could someone who had schemed against her, used her, and hurt her possibly love her?
At 23, she felt it was time to wake up from the fairytale illusions of love. From now on, she had to learn to face this cruel reality alone.
"Zayn, at the very least, we shared three memorable years together. Please don't ruin those beautiful memories with a cheap breakup and turn them into something meaningless, okay?"
She closed her eyes, letting a tear fall silently. Then, she opened them again, fixing her gaze on him once more.
"Let's end this with dignity and go our separate ways," she said.
Zayn's breath hitched. That suffocating sense of losing control washed over him once again.
A surge of panic exploded within him, sending tremors through his entire body.
His grip on her wrist tightened, his fingers digging in with all his strength—afraid that if he let go, she would slip away forever.
"Josephine, nothing you say will change my mind—I will not divorce you."
Josephine endured the sharp pain in her wrist, her voice cold. "This isn't your call."
Zayn suddenly chuckled, his smile unexpectedly gentle. "Nonsense. I'm your husband. If I don't have the final say, then who does? You're not going anywhere unless I allow it. You said I'm a smart man, didn't you? So, did you really think I wouldn't have a backup plan?"
His gaze darkened, a flicker of madness in his eyes.
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