Gold Digger vs Gold Saver My Man's Double Life novel Chapter 5

**Marriage Without Temperature by Mark Twain**
**Chapter 5**

As I returned to the condo, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. The familiar scent of the place—the faint hint of Grant’s cologne mixed with the aroma of the kitchen—brought back memories I had tried to suppress. I began the arduous task of packing, each item I touched a reminder of the life we had built together.

Seven years of our shared existence were now crammed into three suitcases and four cardboard boxes. The living room, once vibrant with laughter and love, now felt stark and empty, a shell of what it used to be. I found myself staring into the void, my mind drifting back to the day we first moved in. Grant had twirled me around in a spontaneous moment of joy, both of us bursting into laughter, our hearts full of dreams.

“This is it, Liv. Our place,” he had said with an infectious enthusiasm. “Someday, we’ll have kids running around here. A whole life.”

I had believed every word, my heart swelling with hope.

But how naïve I had been. It turns out promises are as fragile as glass—especially from those who never intended to keep them.

Suddenly, the doorbell shattered my reverie.

I approached the peephole cautiously, my heart racing. There he was—Grant, looking utterly wrecked, his eyes shadowed with regret.

I couldn’t bring myself to open the door.

“Liv, please. Just talk to me,” he pleaded, his voice strained and desperate.

“My lawyer will send the paperwork. Now leave,” I replied, my tone icy.

“I fucked up. I know,” he said, his voice cracking under the weight of his remorse. “She pursued me. I got confused—”

“Confused for six months?” I shot back, incredulous.

Silence hung heavy in the air, thick with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

I let out a bitter laugh, my heart hardening. “Grant, if you’re going to apologize, at least make it sound sincere.”

“I’ll get you the ring. Any ring you want. We can go this weekend—”

The irony of it all twisted my stomach. Just three days ago, I was fighting with him over a ring, convinced that it was the root of our problems. Now, he was ready to buy one, but only because it no longer mattered.

“I didn’t want a ring, Grant. I wanted you to respect me. To be faithful. You gave both to someone else.” My voice trembled with hurt.

“That’s not— I love you!” he exclaimed, slamming his palm against the door in frustration. “It was one mistake. I swear I’ll never see her again.”

“How much did that jewelry cost? More than what we budgeted for my ring, right?” I shot back, my voice laced with bitterness.

Another silence fell, heavy and suffocating, on the other side of the door.

There it was—the truth laid bare.

I turned away, returning to my packing, drowning out his muffled voice with the sound of rustling clothes and memories being shoved into boxes.

Just then, my phone lit up, breaking the tension.

**Double life ‘ملالسلا’**

**3.4%**

**Chapter 5**

My best friend Sophie had texted me:
[Heard what happened. You okay? Need me?]

I quickly typed back:
[Fine. Packing. Coming to yours tomorrow.]

Another message popped up:
[Dr. Harrison cornered me today asking if you and Grant split.]

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