Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

Rosemary had never pondered that question; she just knew that even if she had to return to Meadowlark Retreat now, she wouldn't be caught dead sharing a ride with him!

She took a cab to Meadowlark Retreat herself, and whether by design or accident, they arrived almost back-to-back.

Rosemary ignored him, just huffed and headed straight for the steps. When Sandy saw her return, she beamed, "Mrs. Templeton, you're finally back! Mr. Templeton has been in a foul mood these past few days without you. I've been walking on eggshells, not even daring to make a peep while cleaning."

Rosemary was easygoing, and since she had personally hired Sandy, the latter felt more at ease around her and rattled on, "What couple doesn't squabble now and then? Don't let the sun go down on your anger. Mr. Templeton cares about you."

Rosemary didn't want to hear any praise about Maxwell and offhandedly shot back a question, "Sandy, does your husband eat what you order for him?"

Caught off guard by the sudden question, Sandy answered honestly, "Oh yeah, my man isn't picky at all; he'll eat whatever I get him. He's not one to turn down a meal I've made."

Rosemary changed her shoes and walked inside, her tone cool, "But my husband never eats what I order, let alone anything I cook."

Sandy was suddenly at a loss for words, casting a glance at the man standing at the door, his face stormy, lips tightly pressed, an icy aura surrounding him that was quite intimidating.

Rosemary went straight upstairs, opening the bedroom door to be greeted by a familiar scent. Maxwell probably hadn't stayed here while she was gone. The room was exactly as she had left it;

even the little trinkets she'd put on the nightstand were still there.

Just back to pack up, Rosemary wasn't prepared for much; there were only two suitcases that were around 22 inches at home, and even stuffed to the brim, they wouldn't hold a quarter of the clothes from the walk-in closet.

She had taken what she had purchased before, leaving behind only the gifts from Maxwell - the latest seasonal fashions from top luxury brands, the kind of stuff ordinary folks would kill for, enough to wear a different piece every day for two years without repeating.

In the three years of their marriage, aside from not liking her, Maxwell hadn't shortchanged her materially, leading her to occasionally delude herself into thinking maybe he did have feelings for her.

Maxwell walked in just in time to see Rosemary squatting on the floor, frantically stuffing things into a suitcase. He felt an inexplicable restlessness, and his face grew darker, "All this fuss just because I didn't eat what you ordered? Is it really worth kicking up such a stink over something so trivial?"

Rosemary slammed the clothes she was holding into the suitcase, stood up, and faced him, "You think it's trivial?"

Maxwell frowned at that, his impatience clear, "I thought we had an unspoken agreement about how things were."

Having her work at the Templeton Group as his life assistant was Pearl's idea. He had arranged it, but that didn't mean he had to eat the meals she ordered. He had even told her she could request a transfer to another department anytime she wanted.

But Rosemary didn't want to. Since she lacked ambition and was content with a cushy, do-nothing job, he had nothing else to say - he just treated her like a freeloader.

Rosemary was so infuriated by his entitled attitude that she felt like taking a hammer to his head to see what was really going on in there!

"Yes, we had an agreement, so now I want a divorce, just like we agreed when we got married."

She didn't have the patience to sort through everything item by item and just bunched up the clothes and shoved them into the suitcase, zipping it up, "I'll come back for the rest tomorrow. Let's get the papers on Monday, so we don't waste each other's time."

Maxwell heard her still talk about divorce, his patience running out. As Rosemary walked past him with her suitcase, he grabbed her wrist and pinned her on the couch, tossing his phone at her.

"Order it." Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDrâ/ma.O(r)g!

Rosemary, visibly annoyed, didn't understand what he was up to.

Maxwell added, "You heard the doctor today. Mom can't handle any stress right now. Isn't this whole fight just because I didn't eat what you ordered? So order now, I'll eat now, and let's drop the divorce talk, at least not until Mom's condition stabilizes."

Rosemary's frown never eased, suspecting Maxwell was doing this on purpose. This wasn't about eating or not eating, making a fuss or not. He knew full well what the real problem was in their marriage, yet he deliberately missed the point, twisting her words.

Rosemary met his gaze unwaveringly, "The biggest concession I'll make is to keep our divorce from your mom, to save face for you. I'll play along whenever you need, ready 24/7."

Despite her words, whether she'd actually be there after the divorce was not Maxwell's concern; she had to sweeten the deal for now.

Seeing Maxwell's mood darken to the brink of explosion, Rosemary hardened her feelings and played her trump card, "Maxwell, clingy, desperate men are such a turn-off."

She knew him too well. A guy like Maxwell, born into privilege, used to being flattered and coddled from a young age, how could he stand being described with such disdain?

"Clingy and desperate?" The man was indeed provoked, his voice laden with venom, followed by a sneer of contempt, "You? Who do you think you are?"

He stood up, looking down on her, "My lawyer will contact you tomorrow to discuss the details of the divorce. Now get lost."

Rosemary leaped up from the couch, grabbed her luggage, and bolted faster than a rabbit, fearing Maxwell might change his mind, "I'll come back for the rest tomorrow."

"No need, I'll have Sandy throw it all out."

Rosemary didn't miss a beat, her voice trailing off in the distance, "Fine, have it your way!"

Maxwell watched her flee, his expression as cold as ice.