Chapter 2 You've Always Had Someone Else in Your Heart Too

Rosie's grandfather and Alexander's grandfather were old friends.

Two years ago, when Alexander's grandfather fell gravely ill, his greatest wish was to see her and Alexander married.

Rosie suddenly felt like laughing.

She remembered Grandfather's bedside, Alexander holding her hand, asking if she would marry him.

When she nodded, her heart had raced so fast—because she truly loved him.

But in his mind, she'd only married him to fulfill Grandfather's wish.

"Is it because Ms. Windsor came back?" Rosie asked.

Alexander said nothing, as if confirming everything with his silence.

Rosie stood up, turning her back to him, her voice barely audible. "I'll move out tomorrow."

She walked toward the bedroom. After a few steps, she heard Alexander's voice behind her. "You don't need to act so wronged."

Rosie stopped.

"You've always had someone else in your heart too, haven't you?"

Rosie turned around, looking at him with confusion. "What do you mean?"

Alexander raised his head, his gaze deep and complicated. "That portrait you've been hiding in your room all this time—isn't that proof enough?"

Rosie opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Alexander turned and went upstairs.

Rosie stood there, watching his figure disappear at the top of the stairs.

She returned to her room, opened the bottom drawer of her closet, and pulled out an envelope from a pile of old belongings. Inside was a yellowed sheet of sketch paper.

On it was drawn a man's silhouette.

Backlit by the setting sun, tall and lean, standing by a window, his shoulders straight and broad.

That was six years ago.

She'd seen him in Grandfather's hospital room—he'd come to visit, standing by the window taking a phone call.

She'd hidden behind the door, watching for a long time, then gone home and drawn this sketch from memory.

Rosie stared at the familiar silhouette on the paper, and tears finally fell.

The next morning, when Rosie woke up, Alexander had already left.

On the dining table in the living room sat a bank card with a sticky note underneath: The password is your birthday.

Rosie looked at the note for a long time in silence.

She left the card on the table and didn't take it.

After packing her things, Rosie went to the office.

She'd written her resignation letter the night before. She printed it out and signed it.

After a moment's thought, she pulled another document from her bag and clipped the two together. Just as she reached Alexander's office door, her steps suddenly halted.

Susan stood in front of Alexander, on her tiptoes adjusting his tie.

They were very close, their gestures intimate.

Hearing the door open, Susan turned around. Seeing Rosie, her smile remained gentle. "Ms. Blair, you're here?"

Alexander's gaze landed on Rosie's face, seeming to pause for a moment, then he shifted slightly away, instinctively putting some distance between himself and Susan.

Susan's smile froze briefly.

"I'm here to submit my resignation," Rosie said, walking over and placing the documents on his desk.

Alexander lowered his eyes to glance at the papers, his voice somewhat hesitant. "There's really no need to rush."

"Some things are better dealt with sooner rather than later." Rosie finished speaking and left the office with her head down.

Alexander watched her retreating figure in silence for a moment, then reached for the resignation letter.

He opened the folder and found divorce papers clipped inside. His fingers stilled.

Susan watched the direction Rosie had gone and sighed. "Such a shame. The company's losing a capable assistant."

She finished speaking and noticed Alexander seemed off. She turned to him with concern. "Alexander?"

Alexander immediately snapped back to attention, closing the folder, his eyes showing only emptiness.

"I have something to take care of today, so I can't have lunch with you," he said to Susan quietly, seeming distracted.

Susan froze, her smile gradually stiffening.

She walked to the door and glanced back at Alexander, only to find him still staring at the resignation letter, not looking up at her once.

Susan bit her lip in frustration and left.

Rosie walked out of the office building, bought a bouquet of daisies at a flower shop, then went to the hospital to visit Grandfather.

Though her marriage to Alexander had reached its end, Grandfather had always been good to her.

Even if they were divorcing, she should at least say goodbye to him.

Alexander's grandfather, Larry Hamilton, was reading the newspaper. When he saw Rosie, his face lit up with delight, and he pulled her close for a long chat.

Years ago, when Larry had been gravely ill and many doctors had given up hope, Rosie had used the medical knowledge she'd learned in college, persistently massaging him every day, and miraculously helped him gradually recover.

Larry took her hand and had her sit by the bed, looking her up and down. "Rosie, you've worked so hard taking care of me all these years. Have you and Alexander ever thought about having a child?"

Rosie froze. She'd been about to mention the divorce, but the words caught in her throat.

Larry saw the worried look on her face and smiled kindly. "It's all right. Young people have their own ideas. Don't take what this old man says to heart."

How could he not know? Back then, Rosie had only agreed to marry Alexander because she didn't want him to worry.

In all the years since the wedding, Rosie had come to check on him almost every day—more devoted than his own grandson. How could he bear to put more pressure on her?

Hearing these words, Rosie's eyes began to sting. Not wanting Larry to worry, she quickly stood up, pretending to get water.

She'd just picked up the glass and was about to turn around when she saw Larry clutching his chest, his face suddenly pale.

"Grandfather!"

Rosie rushed to the bedside. Larry's breathing was rapid, his pulse weak, his lips turning purple.

This was bad—acute heart failure!

Rosie knew Larry's condition inside and out. She quickly loosened his collar, helped him into a semi-reclined position, and pressed the call button.

Doctors and nurses arrived quickly.

Rosie stood to the side, watching Larry's condition worsen, then glanced at the medication dosage the doctor was preparing. Her frown deepened.

"Wait," she suddenly spoke, her expression serious. "That dosage is too high. The patient is elderly with compromised kidney function. Forty milligrams of furosemide is sufficient."