I declined, saying I had to return to the office. But without a word, Mark pulled me into the back seat.
Chloe was already in the front passenger seat, her posture casual, like she owned the car and the man beside her.
"Clara, just let Mark drive you," she said sweetly. "He hasn't been to the office lately because he's been keeping me company. He has plenty of free time now."
In our eight years, even for anniversaries or when I was sick, Mark never missed work for me. But the moment Chloe returned, she became his sole priority. The thought stung.
Just then, Chloe gasped. "Mark, I think I stained your seat!"
There was a faint, dark red patch on the passenger seat.
Mark didn't flinch. His tone was gentle. "It's alright, just needs a wash."
Then, almost out of instinct, he glanced at me in the rearview mirror.
Seeing my lack of reaction, he looked away.
When we arrived at my office building, I opened the door and nearly ran into my supervisor.
"Clara," he said, his expression serious, "are you absolutely certain about this Paris transfer? Once the application is processed, it's irreversible. I thought you were getting married and going on your honeymoon next month?"
Before I could reply, Mark lowered the car window, his own expression cold.
"Clara, Chloe wants to travel next month," he announced bluntly. "Let's push the wedding and honeymoon back a month."
I nodded without hesitation. "Alright."
He was visibly stunned, clearly expecting an argument or a fit of tears. But I simply agreed.
Before I could say more, Chloe leaned toward him, tugging his arm playfully. "Mark, don't postpone the honeymoon. Let's all travel together instead."
Mark grinned and, without even looking back at me, responded cheerfully, "Sure, we'll go together. Clara, let's just book our trips separately."
I didn't object. After all, I had already decided to cancel the wedding. What reason did I have to go on a honeymoon?
I watched the car drive off. My supervisor looked at me with concern.
"Once the paperwork is submitted, it takes about a week. But if needed, I can expedite it. You could be on a flight as early as tomorrow night."
That evening, for the first time in a long while, Mark came to pick me up from work.
The moment I got into the car, he handed me a thermos of the ginger and honey tea.
"I made this for you," he said.
But just as he finished speaking, his phone screen lit up with a message. It was from Chloe.
[Mark, you're such a dummy. You made so much tea! Are you trying to turn me into a little pig? ;)]
The car fell into an awkward silence.
Eventually, he broke it. "You're reading materials about the Paris division. Planning to take a trip for work?"
I shook my head. "My boss just asked me to familiarize myself with them."
Sensing my low mood, he—who was usually so aloof—suddenly softened his tone. "Take the day off tomorrow. I'll take you to the movies. Weren't you always begging to see that new release?"
"No need. I don't have time tomorrow."
It was the movie he had already watched—with her.
He misunderstood my refusal, and his tone grew sharp. "Clara, what's your problem now? I just let Chloe stay at our house for a few days, and you're already throwing a fit?"
I was taken aback, about to explain that I wasn't upset.
But he scoffed and continued, "With your attitude, how can I marry you? Chloe would suffer too much in the future!"
Then came the final blow: "Let me make this clear—I am the one in charge of this house. Letting Chloe stay for a few days? That's nothing. Even if she ends up living with us permanently, you have no right to object!"