My mission was to win over Sam Sheffield. I succeeded. We got married. There were no fireworks, just a quiet warmth that settled over our days. A peaceful life. Until the day he learned that the story’s female lead had gotten a divorce. He locked himself in his study and didn't come out all night. That’s when I finally understood. The destiny of the devoted second male lead is to be a silent guardian for the heroine. Nothing and no one can change that. So, I made a graceful exit. I left on my own. The next time we met, I was back in the country with my fiancé for our wedding. And Sam Sheffield? He was the best friend my fiancé couldn't stop talking about. He was also our best man. 1 I returned to the States with my fiancé, Cole Anderson, to get married. But then he got into a car accident. I rushed to the hospital, tears streaming down my face in a panic. “Drinking and driving? If you don’t want to marry me, just say so!” Cole sat up, pulling me into his arms with a soft laugh. “I worked way too hard to get you to say yes. You think I’d risk messing that up now?” he murmured, his voice a low hum against my hair. “It was my best friend who was driving. Neither of us had a drop to drink. Who knew he could screw up this badly sober?” Just as he finished, a rustle came from the next bed. My fiancé yanked the curtain aside with a lazy drawl. “You’re awake?” “Good. You can explain this to my fiancée right now. If she gets mad and leaves me, I swear I’ll end you.” I shot him a glare. Even now, he couldn’t be serious. His friend remained silent. Cole glanced over, and his brow instantly furrowed. “Sam, what are you staring at?” My heart seized at the name. It couldn't be. Not that much of a coincidence. My body went rigid. Slowly, I turned. The moment our eyes met, the air left my lungs. Sam Sheffield. My ex-husband. The man who was once my mission. 2 When I first arrived in this world, the main characters had already fallen for each other. Sam was in a deep depression, his grades plummeting. To survive, I had to follow the System’s orders: win him over. I used every trick in the book. He was drawn to the heroine’s bright, sunshine-y personality, so I molded myself into that image. I pestered him relentlessly, striking up conversations and bringing him homemade sweets every day. At his basketball games, I was the loudest one in the stands, waving pom-poms and cheering his name until my voice was raw. Even when he gently turned me down, I played dumb, trailing after him like a lost puppy. In reality, I’m quiet and reserved. No matter how hard I tried, I was just a pale, clumsy imitation. I was on the verge of giving up, convinced the mission was a failure. Then, one day, the System’s voice echoed in my mind: [Host, objective value has reached 100. Congratulations on earning permanent residency in this world.] And just like that, it was gone. I never figured out what triggered the success. The elation was dizzying, but a thread of anxiety ran through it. I was terrified it was all just a dream. Sam, ever perceptive, noticed my turmoil. He smiled, his face warm and brilliant in the sunlight. “Ava, just be yourself. I like you just the way you are.” He had seen through it all—the awkwardness and fumbling that came after every desperate attempt to be someone I wasn't. From that day on, everything felt natural between us. With the mission complete, our feelings for each other only deepened. We got married right after college. Life was simple. We shared chores, watched movies, and found our rhythm in the quiet flow of everyday life. It was perfect for us. Then came the late-night phone call. On the other end was a woman’s voice, choked with tears. I knew who it was. The story’s female lead, Monica. She and the male lead had divorced. Sam got up and went to his study. He didn’t come back out all night. After that, our routine shattered. He started leaving early and coming home late. I’d occasionally run into them together at work events they both happened to attend. Monica had become his assistant. I couldn’t tell if I felt more sadness or relief. I felt it was time for a change in my own life, too. Neither of us liked to fight. So when I brought up divorce, he agreed without much hesitation. The settlement was more than enough to let me live comfortably for the rest of my life. Because of him, I’d been given a new life without suffering too much for it. I genuinely wished him happiness. And five years later, I found my own. I just never imagined fate would be so cruel. That the best friend Cole had mentioned was Sam. 3 The weight of Sam’s gaze on my face was so heavy that even Cole picked up on it. His brow tightened, and his voice dropped, turning cold. “You know Ava?” At the sound of my name, Sam’s eyelashes fluttered. The faint color in his already pale lips seemed to drain away completely. I spoke first. “We went to the same high school. We saw each other around.” Sam quickly composed himself. Pushing himself up with one arm, he offered me a polite, distant smile. “Ava. It’s been a long time.” Cole’s expression softened slightly, but he took my hand, his fingers lacing through mine. He deliberately angled it so the diamond on my finger caught the light—like he was staking a claim, or maybe firing a warning shot. He picked up where I left off. “Not as handsome as me. Stop looking at him.” A laugh escaped my lips. “You’re shameless. Who praises themselves like that?” The tense atmosphere slowly began to dissolve. I didn’t look at Sam again. It was as if we were truly just strangers who had crossed paths a few times, long ago. Cole’s injuries were just minor scrapes, nothing serious. After I finished his discharge paperwork, I turned around to find Sam standing right behind me. His right hand was in a cast, and he looked worn out and disheveled. 4 “About our past… let’s wait until after Cole and I are back overseas to tell him. You know how he is…” I pressed my fingers to my temple, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. Cole was a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of person. He wore his heart on his sleeve, his loyalties fierce and his grudges sharp. He knew I’d been married before, but he had no idea my ex-husband was Sam. If I told him now, I was afraid their friendship would implode, and things would get ugly. “Is he good to you?” Sam asked suddenly. I blinked, taken aback. “He is.” This was just too weird, talking about my current relationship with my ex-husband. The air grew thick with silence. Just as I was about to leave, a woman rushed toward us. She hurried past me and went straight to Sam, her hands immediately flying to his arm to inspect the damage. “Sam, why didn’t you tell me you were in an accident?” she demanded, her voice laced with worry. “Your hand is hurt? Is it bad? Will it affect your drafting work?” It was Monica. She looked more mature than she had in her youth, but her features were just as captivating. Sam gently eased her hands away. “I’m fine.” Monica froze, her gaze finally landing on me. Her expression flickered, and she forced a smile. “Ava, long time no see.” I nodded, deciding it was better to clear the air. “We just ran into each other and were catching up. I’m back in the country to get married.” “Oh, I see.” A barely perceptible wave of relief washed over her. Sam’s lips thinned. The knuckles of his left hand, clenched at his side, turned white. 5 That evening, I was curled up in Cole’s arms, half-watching a horror movie. The plot was so dull we were both losing interest. I was still debating whether to tell him everything now. Out of the blue, Cole spoke. “Let’s not have Sam be our best man.” An unexpected wave of relief washed over me. “Why not?” He nuzzled the side of my neck. “He’s injured, so it’s inconvenient. Plus, it’s bad juju. Might jinx our epic love story.” I gave him a surprised look. “I didn’t know you were so superstitious.” He didn’t confirm or deny it. “Just a gut feeling.” He paused, his tone shifting. “Besides, the way he was looking at you… it was weird. I hope I’m wrong, because if I’m not, that’s the end of our friendship.” I stared blankly at the screen. Yeah, definitely better to wait until after the wedding. Cole had been living abroad for years. Now that he was back, he was swamped with dinners and catch-ups with old friends. I had no desire to see Sam or any of their mutual friends, so I usually stayed home. The truth was, very few people even knew we had been married. We weren’t big on public displays, so we’d just taken a long honeymoon and called it a destination wedding. We never posted pictures of our faces online; it was practically a secret marriage. After turning him down one too many times, Cole wrapped his arms around me, his voice taking on a pathetic, pleading tone. “Babe, please come with me just this once. I’ll be so lonely without you.” I raised an eyebrow. “Not worried about me running into Sam?” “He’s not invited. These are my friends from high school. They don’t know him.” I couldn’t resist his puppy-dog eyes, so I finally agreed. When we got to the private room, it was filled with unfamiliar faces, just as he’d promised. I felt myself relax, listening as they shared embarrassing stories about Cole from back in the day. The atmosphere was light and fun. Until the door swung open, and Sam walked in. Monica was right behind him, looking like she’d failed to stop him. 6 Seeing Monica with him seemed to placate Cole slightly. His expression, while not warm, was less hostile. “You’re still injured. What are you doing out and about?” Sam’s voice was flat. “It was my arm, not my legs. Why can’t I be out?” The air crackled with tension. And as he spoke, his eyes were fixed on me. The room fell silent. No one knew what was going on. Cole moved to stand slightly in front of me, a shield. The muscle in his jaw was tight, his patience wearing thin. “How did you know we were here?” A cheerful, laid-back voice drifted in from the doorway. “I told him, of course!” a newcomer announced. “You jerk, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for weeks. The second you get a fiancée, you ditch your pathetic old friends, is that it?” My breath caught in my throat. It was one of the few people who knew Sam and I had been married. I looked up and my eyes met Ben’s. He stumbled back in shock. “Holy shit! A-Ava? What are you doing here?” Cole turned his head, his gaze sharp and piercing. “You know her?” Ben realized he’d stepped in it. He stammered, trying to backtrack. “Uh, yeah, we’ve met a few times. Just surprised to see her, that’s all, haha…” A vein throbbed at Cole’s temple. His entire body was coiled like a drawn bowstring. Someone, sensing disaster, tried to step in and smooth things over. But surprisingly, Cole didn’t press the issue. “I’ve had too much to drink tonight. I’m gonna have to skip the next round. My fiancée and I are heading home.” I stood up and took the hand he offered me. I could feel the sheer force of his grip, a testament to the rage he was barely holding back. I managed a tight, apologetic smile for the others. “Sorry, everyone. We’ll catch up next time.” Sam’s gaze shifted from our clasped hands to my face. His eyes were bloodshot, as if he’d been drinking. “She’s my ex-wife.” 7 His quiet words were a spark in a powder keg. The suppressed fury in Cole finally ignited. He spun around. And slammed his fist into Sam’s face. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, saying that now!” he snarled through clenched teeth. Monica rushed to Sam’s side, her face a mask of panic. “Cole, what are you doing? He’s still injured!” Cole pulled his fist back, sneering. “He’s lucky that’s all he got for eyeing my fiancée.” “Are you insane? They’re ancient history! You two have been friends for twenty years!” Monica glared at Cole, her voice sharp with disbelief. But Sam brushed her hand away. His gaze cut through the crowd, landing on me with an unyielding intensity. Our eyes locked, and the calm was gone, replaced by a churning storm. “It’s not over.” His voice was a whisper, as if meant only for himself, but it carried through the stunned silence, reaching every ear in the room. No one moved. Ben covered his face, unable to watch. Monica’s face went pale as she stared at Sam, tears welling up in her eyes. Sam pushed himself to his feet and walked over to Cole. Ignoring the blood trickling from his split lip, his eyes held a tempest I had never seen before. “Eyeing your fiancée?” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “She was my wife first. You’re the thief who snuck in when I wasn’t looking.” Cole’s rage exploded. “Sam, you’re asking for it!” He swung again, each punch harder than the last. Sam fought back with equal ferocity. They were trying to kill each other. Ben rushed in to pull them apart, his face crumpled in despair. “Stop! Stop it! Sam’s hand is still broken! What if you make it worse?” When he couldn’t separate them, he looked at me, his eyes pleading. “Ava, can you please get them to stop?” A cool, calm smile touched my lips. “Go on, let them fight. Be even better if one of them dropped dead.” They both froze instantly. 8 The chilly night air, tinged with the salty dampness of the river, did little to cool the fire in my chest. I stared coldly at the man across from me—bandages still wrapped around his arm, fresh bruises blooming on his face. “Are you sober now?” “I’m sorry.” Sam’s eyes were downcast, unable to meet mine. A bitter laugh almost escaped me. “Do you think I want your apology? I thought we had a clear understanding that day.” To avoid each other at all costs. That should have been our silent, mutual agreement. I had done everything I could to prevent a scene like this. And what had he done? I took a deep breath, my gaze fixed on the shimmering surface of the river. “Sam, I honestly don’t understand what you’re thinking.” “Why did you have to make things so humiliating for everyone?” His voice was raw. “I don’t understand it either.” “Just like I don’t understand how you could leave so calmly back then,” he said, the words heavy with accusation. “Five whole years. Not a single word.” Sam finally looked up at me, his entire being engulfed by a wave of profound sorrow. “Ava, all these years, I’ve been wondering… did you ever really love me?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “What’s the point of asking that now?” “I need an answer.” His dark eyes were fixed on me, stubborn and unwavering. My gaze drifted to the distance, where Cole was leaning against his car. The wind picked up, seeming to carry his restless energy toward me. Sam followed my line of sight. The emotions in his eyes deepened into something unreadable. I told him the truth. “I did, once.” “But later… you became my comfort zone, a habit. You were like mineral water.” Not something I couldn’t live without. 9 During our honeymoon, Sam and I traveled to many countries. On one island, our guide told us it was a world-famous spot for paragliding. It was a kind of thrilling adventure I had never experienced. The sky was filled with vibrant arcs of color, punctuated by joyful screams of release. My heart began to pound, a warmth spreading through my body. I wanted to try it. Sam held my hand. “It’s too dangerous, Ava. We can do something else.” But his eyes never left the scene before us. I saw the nostalgia in them, clear as day. Monica had once shown me a collection of photos of her and Sam growing up. Among them was a picture of them paragliding together when they were fifteen. I couldn’t help but wonder. In that moment, was he genuinely concerned for my safety? Or was he jealously guarding a memory that was theirs and theirs alone? Later, I understood. Love is defined by its nuances, by the small, telling differences in how it is given. Sam was a celebrated genius in architecture, known for designing landmark projects. But after Monica’s divorce, he was willing to personally design her a new home. Every night he spent in his study, sketching her blueprints, his eyes shone with a joy brighter than any desk lamp. Monica’s ex-husband—the male lead of this world—once sought me out. He looked at me with pity. “Your husband spends all his time with the woman he’s been in love with for years, and you don’t seem to care at all.” When Sam found out about it, he explained everything. “The guy cheated on her and won’t leave her alone. I’m just protecting her for now. Ava, please don’t misunderstand.” He looked flustered, which was rare for him. My voice was gentle. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” Sam seemed to freeze for a second. And I truly didn’t mind. I’ve always been a passive person. I measure how much affection I should return based on how others feel about me. His love for Monica and his love for me were always different—one heavier, one lighter; one more, one less. My love for him mirrored that. When his feelings for me were at their peak, I loved him. Gradually, that love settled into a habit. A quiet life like that, forever, seemed fine. Now, all I felt was the lightness of a burden lifted. Even the main characters could break from their destined paths and choose different lives. Why should I continue to let myself be slowly boiled alive in lukewarm water, all for the sake of habit? When a comfort zone is no longer comfortable. When a habit becomes an inconvenience. When I realized that mineral water, unlike plain water, isn't essential, and it lacks the exhilarating fizz of a soda… I knew it was time for a new way of life. On our third wedding anniversary, Sam prepared a meticulous candlelight dinner. He even turned off his phone. “Just the two of us tonight,” he said. “There’s something I want to tell you.” We were in sync, as always. My heart hammered against my ribs, that familiar warmth spreading through me, just like when I’d seen the paragliders. Only this time, I was going to act. “I have something to tell you, too.” As he looked at me with anticipation, I smiled and slid a document across the table. A divorce agreement. “Sam, let’s get a divorce.” 10 “What did you say to him? He looked like he was about to shatter.” Cole toyed with my hand, his tone casual, almost indifferent. But the sour note underneath was impossible to miss. I knew he was upset, so I tightened my grip, lacing my fingers through his. “You want to know?” The driver silently raised the partition between us. Cole closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat, a deep weariness etched on his face. “Forget it.” The car wasn't the right place for this conversation anyway. I glanced down at our tightly clasped hands, which he refused to let go of, and let him be. The moment I keyed in the code for the front door and the crystal chandelier flooded the foyer with light, Cole’s kiss crashed down on me. It was fierce and desperate, a battle for oxygen. By the time he was done, my legs had turned to jelly, and I could only lean against him, gasping for breath. He’d been pushed to his limit today. His emotions were running higher than usual. He lifted me onto the entryway console, his hands planted on either side of me, leaving no room for escape. After another searing, possessive kiss, the lights went out, plunging us into darkness. The house was silent except for the sound of our ragged, intertwined breaths. I rested my hands on his broad shoulders, trying to calm my racing heart. Suddenly, I felt a weight in the crook of my neck, followed by a cool, damp sensation against my skin.
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