Trouble in Paradise by Three Way

From the moment I stepped into Coral Villa, it felt as though my limbs had disconnected from my body. They had lost all feeling, and Nicholas dragged me along the entire way.

Eight years ago, he had led me through this house the same way, showing me our marital home. Back then, I was more shy than anything, too embarrassed to imagine that this would one day be our home.

He thought I was walking too slowly and turned back to take my hand. His tone was incredibly gentle as he said, "We'll live here from now on."

I looked up and glanced at his back. I realized that, back then, he must have felt a tinge of impatience, although he had hidden it well. Otherwise, why would he be so careful with my pace now, giving me enough time to take in the whole courtyard? But this was no longer our marital home. So, why was he doing this now?

"Nicholas, let go! I can walk on my own!" I struggled to free myself.

He stopped in his tracks and turned around, his deep, dark eyes fixed on me. He pointed toward the balcony upstairs. "We once had sex over there."

His tone was as calm as if he were discussing the weather.

I gasped, enraged. "N-Nich..."

that open space?

of our bedroom. "I said I wanted to try the floor-to-ceiling windows. You were really loud

grew warmer, but his expression turned colder.

I never regretted any moment we spent together. Whether it was the happy times or the miserable ones,

the way he casually said those things was truly unbearable

myself

a colorful life,

this century-old tree by us. And that open space where

scoffed. "I remember exactly where you

waist. He held me up and carried me onto the lawn, and in the next moment, my back was pressed against the thick trunk of the tree. Nicholas leaned in, his lips brushing against my cheek as he whispered, "Why are your

Shock coursed through me.

legs around my waist. I'm

it after he said so. The sudden loss of support made me instinctively wrap my legs around him.

There was a hint of accusation in his voice, along with a trace of unspoken hurt. "Is there truly no memory here