Love Burned, She Rose Unscathed

But deep down, Cliff couldn't help but feel betrayed by Corley. Brothers fighting over the same girl, and Corley had to be the first to lay it all out. What was he thinking? Corley shrugged indifferently. "You don't need to lecture me. You can't tell if the fruit of force tastes sweet until you've taken a bite."

...

After leaving the coffee shop, Roseanne did a bit of shopping at the mall, picking up a new scarf and a cashmere coat. She then headed to the supermarket for some groceries. When she emerged, the sky had darkened. Daytime ended early in winter, prompting her to walk faster toward home. The night fell when she reached her apartment building. Suddenly, a figure burst out from the shadows of an alley. For a moment, thinking it might be some homeless, a chill ran down Roseanne's spine, her hair standing on end. However, when she realized it was Murray, her tension eased somewhat, only to be replaced by concern as she noticed his drunken stagger and the strong smell of alcohol on him. His nose was red from the cold, a sign he'd been waiting for a while.

Leveraging his drunken courage, he grabbed Roseanne's hand. "Anne..."

"Let go," Roseanne demanded, discomfort clear in her voice.

Somehow, she found his touch unbearable.

Murray didn't let go. "I won't let go until you come back to me. Will you?"

Roseanne couldn't fathom what madness had gotten into him. "You're drunk." "Anne... I'm serious..." He was the second man to insist he meant it.

Murray continued, "You asked me if coming back meant being the other woman. I've broken it off with Millie. Everything between you and Corley, I'll act like it never happened. Yesterday, I was out of line, and I'm

sorry. You can hit me or yell at me if

you want..."

As the night deepened, the streets grew emptier, and the weather forecast had warned this would be the coldest night of the winter, advising everyone to bundle up. Roseanne hadn't felt the cold until then, but a chill seeped into her bones.

"I'm sorry," she said, her eyes downcast, her lashes fluttering slightly. "We can't go back to before."

The moment was a turning point for Murray, always so stubborn and powerful, conceding defeat. But Roseanne no longer cared.

"You should drink less for your stomach's sake." With that, she pulled her hand free and walked away.

Murray thought, 'She has told me to drink less. She still cares for me!'

Murray saw it, his eyes lightening up with hope. 'Roseanne is the same as before, worried about my drinking habits. Does it mean I still stand a chance?'

He caught up to her with renewed urgency, pulling her into his embrace. "Anne, you still care about me, right? Let's start over, please?"

He leaned in for a kiss.

Roseanne's eyes widened in shock, and she pushed him away, wiping her mouth in disgust. "Don't touch me!"

Murray froze, her repulsed actions and look of disdain slicing through him more sharply than any knife could.

The warmth from the alcohol in his system turned ice cold.

Roseanne continued, her voice steady yet cold, "I knew it for a long time. During all those years together, you weren't faithful. You thought you were clever, but a woman in love is like Sherlock Holmes. For those traces you didn't clean up, did you think I wouldn't see them?

The first clue came when he

returned from a trip. Roseanne was

unpacking his suitcase. There, she found a corner of a condom wrapper, barely the size of a

fingernail, but instantly recognized it

wasn't their usual brand.