Pained Reginald

She grew up in the countryside of Yorkshire with her grandparents, and her favorite pastime was exploring the wild daisies, dandelions, irises, and sunflowers near their cottage.

She had no affection for these exotic imported roses because they seemed too high-maintenance to enjoy.

Buying so many was purely malicious.

As they neared the entrance to the Treasures of Yesteryear antique shop, Arabella suddenly stopped and said, "You don't need to accompany me any further."

Reginald furrowed his brow slightly. "Afraid your colleagues will see us together?"

"We're destined to divorce anyway, aren't we?" Her voice trembled ever so slightly, her heart quivering.

The edge of this painful ordeal felt like being peeled by a dull knife.

Reginald fell silent for a moment, halting his steps, wordlessly watching her retreating figure, his gaze as deep as a calm water surface.

At the entrance to Treasures of Yesteryear, Arabella encountered the store manager, Cosmo Harrington.

He chuckled. "Such beautiful flowers. A gift from your lover?"

"No, I bought them myself."

"I bet they're quite heavy," Cosmo said. "Let me help you."

Arabella gratefully handed over the bouquet. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it. You're our star craftsman," Cosmo joked.

"Mr. Cosmo, you're too kind," Arabella politely replied.

The two chatted and walked into the store side by side.

Reginald watched them from a distance with a cold gaze, an unpleasant feeling swirling in his stomach.

It was like watching a wild boar suddenly overturning the tender cabbages he had diligently cultivated for years in his garden. His immediate reaction was to shoo the boar away. Apparently, his thoughts were not as open-minded as he had imagined.

Reginald instructed his assistant, "Investigate that man."

"Of course, Mr. Reginald."

Half an hour later, his assistant provided an update over the phone, "That's Mr. Cosmo Harrington, the owner of this store. Treasures of Yesteryear belongs to his grandfather. Phone records indicate that he has been in contact with your wife for three years."

Reginald's gaze turned icy. "Check if Harrington's middle name is Robert."

Back at the company, busy until dusk.

Reginald loosened his tie, glaring coldly at his assistant. "Did you find out what I asked?"

The assistant replied, "Mr. Reginald, Cosmo doesn't have a nickname. His family just calls him Cosmo."

The coldness in Reginald's eyes softened slightly, as if this was expected.

Robert was the man deeply buried in Arabella's heart. Before the divorce, she wouldn't easily go out with him.

Despite her young age, she always handled things with a calm demeanor.

Reginald pushed his chair back, stood up, and buttoned his suit jacket. "Let someone else accompany Mr. Howard to tonight's dinner. I have other matters to attend to."

"Yes, Mr. Reginald." The assistant helped tidy up the files on the desk.

Leaving the Thompson Group building, Reginald drove to Antique Street.

As the sun set, the sky gradually darkened.

He sat in the car and called Arabella. "I'm at the entrance of your shop, come out."

He heard Arabella's slightly surprised voice on the other end. "We're going out for dinner, a gathering with colleagues."

"Who's there?"

"All colleagues from the shop."

"And Cosmo?"

"Yeah, he's the assistant manager at our shop."

Thinking about the laughter and conversation between the two during lunch, a hint of displeasure faintly rose in Reginald's heart. But his voice remained unwavering, "Call me after dinner; I'll come pick you up."

"Thank you." Her tone was reserved and distant, as if deliberately keeping her distance from him.

Hearing that, Reginald felt a bit uncomfortable. His grip on the phone tightened slightly.

After ending the call, he dialed George Davison's number. "Come out for a drink."

George lazily replied with a mockingly elongated tone, "Drinking so early?"

Reginald's voice was quick and low. "Bring your stamp and the land sale contract. Be at Drunken Dawn in half an hour, or the deal is off."

George immediately shook off his drowsiness. "On my way! Right there, brother!"

Half an hour later, they were in a private room at Drunken Dawn.

It was crowded inside, bustling with activity.

After everything was done, everyone left, leaving only Reginald and George.

The fair-skinned, handsome man lounged lazily, surveying Reginald up and down. "Feeling unhappy?"

Reginald took a sip of his drink and replied matter-of-factly, "Average."

The hand holding the glass was cold, fair, and elegantly long, indescribably beautiful.

George joked, "Come on, drink away your troubles. Spare me the 'grudging' nonsense. Normal people, when unhappy, go find comfort in women. And you, you just buy a piece of land, spending money generously!"

"Next time you're feeling down, remember to come find me. My dad still owns several pieces of land." George teased.

"Don't take me as an easy target. I was planning to sign this contract anyway; just moved it up by a week," Reginald said, setting down his glass.

George picked up the bottle and refilled Reginald's glass. "Heard Chloe went back to her home country. You and her were quite close recently, weren't you?"

Reginald glanced at him. "If you have something to say, just say it."

"Arabella is a good girl. Don't let her down." George stared at Reginald, unusually serious this time.

Reginald lightly tapped his fingers on the table, giving a faint smile. "When I wanted to marry her back then, who strongly opposed, saying she wasn't worthy of me? And now you've changed your tune?"

"At that time, I thought she was a gold digger, willing to marry anyone for money. Later, I realized I was wrong. She genuinely cares about you. No money-hungry woman would work as hard as an ox. She has taken care of you for so long, not running off immediately after quickly gaining wealth."

Reginald's deeply set eyes were dark and profound. "She's a good person."

"Then why are you still..."

Reginald lowered his gaze, staring at the crystal-clear white wine in the glass, his tone extremely light. "A very outstanding girl, forced to marry me three years ago due to financial difficulties at home. Even though she doesn't say it, she must feel wronged. Letting her endure for three years, I don't want that. Don't want her to continue being wronged."

George was surprised. "Just because of that, you want a divorce?"

"More or less."

George sighed regretfully. "Such a good girl, and you're willing to let her go?"

"What else can I do?" Reginald's expression remained as calm as the unruffled sea, but a dark shadow stirred deep in his eyes.

It was hard for him to keep her forever by his side, watching her suffer from nightmares, screaming in search of her Robert.

He couldn't bear to see her in pain.

Nor could he endure such humiliation. He was a man, a man with eyes intolerant of even a speck of dust.

But if he were to let go, he would feel reluctant.

It was a rather conflicting situation.

Reginald raised the glass to his lips and drained the remaining wine.

The taste of the alcohol was sharp, cutting through his throat like a knife. It clung to his chest, burning.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

George called out, "Come in!"