Lily snatched her phone off the nightstand, her hand shaking with anger. She had to get out of there. The last thing she expected was to bump into Elsa in the hallway. But there she was—wrapped in nothing but a bath towel. And of course, John was right behind her. Elsa's face, usually so composed and radiant, now looked carefully manufactured—vulnerable, wide-eyed, as if she'd been through some great trauma. Her eyes were red from fake tears, and as she threw herself into John's arms, she whispered, "John, I was so scared… Can you hold me?" And John? He didn't even flinch. He didn't push her away. He just wrapped her up in his arms. Lily stood there, numb for a second, before a strange sense of relief washed over her. She had been in pain—excruciating, soul-shattering pain—but she had never once thought of turning back. Because every step back would be a step into a bottomless pit. What a joke. Just last night, John had sworn up and down that Elsa would never set foot in their home again. And now, here she was, wearing nothing but a towel like she owned the place. Lily couldn't help but laugh—a short, bitter chuckle that broke the silence between them. That was when John finally noticed her. He quickly pulled away from Elsa and stepped back, looking uncomfortable. Elsa, with her eyes still wet, turned to Lily and said in that syrupy sweet voice, "Lily, it's not what you think. There's nothing between me and John. I got dirty after being rear-ended, and I just needed a quick shower." Her tone was smooth, practiced, like she had rehearsed it. But the way her eyes gleamed—those sultry, confident eyes—told a different story. It was clear this was all part of her plan. The towel, the timing, the whole performance—she had hoped to provoke something. Lily didn't waste her breath. There was no point. Fighting for a man who had already given his heart to someone else was like fighting over a dirty, discarded tissue. Completely pointless. And the irony? That towel Elsa was wearing—the one she'd so carefully let fall off—Lily had bought it for John. She had forgotten it when she moved out two weeks ago. And now, here Elsa was, wrapped in it like some kind of victory trophy.John rubbed his temples in frustration, clearly not expecting Lily to show up right now. "Elsa got rear-ended," he said, his voice strained. "She fell when she got out of the car, dirtied her clothes. This place was closest, so she came here to clean up. Don't overthink it." Lily just stared at him, her lips pressing into a thin line. "I'm not overthinking anything," she replied, her voice flat. "If you didn't want anything to happen between you two, you could've taken her to a hotel. But no, you brought her here—right into our house. How... innocent." She wasn't going to cry. She wasn't going to scream. Loving him anymore was pointless. Screaming and fighting for someone who didn't want her anymore? Ridiculous. He was just her ex now—someone she owed nothing to. All she wanted was her parents' keepsake. And there it was. The necklace. Hanging from Elsa's neck. The one thing she could still take back. Lily was about to grab it, but before she could, Elsa's voice rang out in a high-pitched shriek. "What are you doing?!" And in that split second, the towel slipped off. Lily stared, her heart still. Elsa stood there—completely exposed—and John, of course, didn't know what to do. He hadn't seen exactly what happened, but his instincts told him Lily had been the one to pull the towel off. His voice dropped to an icy chill. "Lily, how could you? Elsa's a woman—how could you rip her towel off like that?" He bent down to grab the towel, ready to wrap it back around her. But Lily was faster. She grabbed it first and tossed it straight into the trash bin. Elsa's wails filled the air, and John's anger simmered, but Lily wasn't done. She just smirked, a look of pure disdain in her eyes. "She came all the way to a man's house to shower and parade around in a towel. Wasn't she asking for it to fall off?" She shrugged nonchalantly. "Let's be real—even if I did pull it off, it's exactly what she wanted. And don't forget, that towel? The one she's wearing? I bought it for John when we were still together. What, you two can't afford a new one?" John's face turned dark with anger. "Lily! That's enough!" But the sight of Elsa, her face now streaked with humiliation, her tears falling silently, made something inside him snap.“Apologize. To Elsa," he demanded, his voice low and threatening. Lily couldn't help it. She laughed. Actually laughed. There he was—preaching about faithfulness—holding a naked Elsa in his arms while demanding an apology from her. The irony was almost too much to bear. Lily didn't apologize. Instead, she slowly scanned Elsa from head to toe, a mocking smile on her lips. "You two really are pure." She let the sarcasm hang in the air like a heavy, bitter cloud. "Naked like this? Yeah, absolutely clean and chaste." Only then did John realize Elsa was still clinging to him, her naked body pressed against his. But Lily had thrown the towel in the trash, and with his obsessive germophobia, there was no way he was going to dig it out. Elsa trembled harder in his arms, crying even more intensely. Fearing a maid might walk by and see her in that state, John, flustered and panicking, had no choice but to pick her up and carry her into the nearby guest room."Lily, do whatever you want," he spat as he walked away, his voice thick with frustration. The door slammed behind him, leaving Lily standing there, frozen. For a moment, she wanted to laugh. But her eyes burned red with unshed tears. Every part of her ached—like someone had carved out a piece of her, leaving her hollow and empty. She had nothing left for him anymore. He was nothing but a shadow of the man she once loved. And now, he was lost to her.