When Old Love Fades, New Love Finds Its Way

Third Person's POV

"Your overseas assignment has been approved. You’ve got a month to hand off your responsibilities," the manager informed Aiken Gray as he handed over the paperwork. After giving some advice, the manager also commented with a knowing smile, "Anyway, I haven’t seen you this motivated since you got married, Aiken."

Years ago, when Aiken tied the knot with Chelsea Jackson, her focus had been on building her career. But the time came when her parents needed someone to take care of them. Selflessly, Aiken had turned down a major promotion to stay closer to home and care for her aging parents. Back then, it had felt like the right thing to do.

But things had changed. Chelsea didn’t need him anymore—she had found someone better to lean on—her personal assistant.

Aiken stared at the words stamped across the document in his hands: [Overseas Assignment.] This wasn’t just a career milestone; it was the final step toward the end he’d seen coming.

Forcing a polite smile, he replied, "I’d like to keep this under wraps for now."

The manager nodded, assuming Aiken’s concern was about someone else taking the opportunity. "Don’t worry. Once it’s official, nothing will change."

Aiken just smiled, thanking him without offering an explanation.

Back at the villa, Aiken wearily placed the document on the table when a familiar click of heels echoed from the doorway.

"Why aren’t you in bed resting?" Chelsea asked, stepping inside. She frowned as she concernedly remarked, "You just got over that fever."

The faint scent of a perfume he didn’t recognize hung in the air as she walked toward him. Wanting to check his temperature, she reached out to his forehead, but Aiken suddenly leaned back, dodging her touch.

"I’m fine," he murmured. "Just need to rest a bit."

Just then, his mind drifted to the time right after he graduated and started working. Back then, he braved freezing winds to deliver documents to a client, catching a cold in the process. He ran a high fever that night and wouldn’t subside. Thus, Chelsea, wearing barely enough to keep warm, had mindlessly rushed to the pharmacy to get medicine for him and even stayed up all night to care for him.

But this time, she had only sent someone over to hand him a bottle of feverreducing pills.

Chelsea's hand froze in the midst, surprised by Aiken's sudden reaction.

Aiken plopped down on the leather sofa and looked up at her as he hoarsely asked, "Shall we have dinner tonight? I’ve already made reservations."

But she glanced at her watch and reasoned, "I'm sorry, honey. I have work to finish at the office. I just stopped by to grab something."

"But today’s our wedding anniversary," he reminded her quietly as if trying to anchor her to the moment.

However, Chelsea only leaned in, placed a quick kiss on his cheek, and smilingly replied, "We’re not newlyweds anymore, Aiken. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow—it’s the same thing."

Aiken was about to reach for her hand to talk to her when her phone suddenly buzzed, showing [Hadwin Curtis] on the screen.

His hand froze midair, but Chelsea seemed oblivious to this. She simply silenced the call, offered a brief reminder for him to eat something, and left.

Not long after, the doorbell rang. Aiken’s heart leaped, thinking she had returned. But when he opened the door, a delivery man greeted him with a cheery smile.

"Ms. Chelsea asked me to deliver this," the man said, holding out a large bouquet of crimson roses along with a beautifully wrapped cake. "Happy anniversary!"

Aiken’s throat tightened as he accepted those.

After that, the delivery man handed a sleek gift box next, saying, "She said this is a special gift—a new design from her company. She wanted you to have the first one."

Chelsea’s company was involved in multiple industries, but she particularly loved designing watches. Aiken, however, had no interest in watches and never wore them, so Chelsea shifted her focus to designing clothes instead.

"Keep the cake for yourself and toss the roses," Aiken said, his voice flat and quiet.

As for the watch, Aiken took it and forced a smile. "Tell Chelsea that I’m very happy."

Sitting on the soft, comfortable sofa, Aiken thought that if Chelsea had stayed just a little longer, she might’ve noticed the document sitting on the table.

But she hadn't.

Just then, his phone buzzed, and for the second time around, he again thought she must have forgotten something and would come back. But to his disappointment, he only found a message from an unknown number.

Curious, he opened it and a picture of Chelsea popped right in front of his eyes.

Third Person's POV

In the photo, a formally dressed man was standing in front of Chelsea. Aiken recognized him right away—Hadwin Curtis, her personal assistant.

Aiken had asked about him before. But Chelsea had just brushed it off, saying he was simply a junior from her high school who’d come to her for help after college. She’d also said she only felt obligated to take care of him.

But no “ordinary junior” would send a photo like the one Aiken had just seen.

In the picture, Chelsea wore a soft smile, her lips barely pursed as she handed Hadwin a watch. Her gaze was warm—overflowing with an affection Aiken hadn’t seen in a long time.

Aiken’s hands tightened around his phone as he blocked the sender. Only then did he also realize that the watch Chelsea handed over was identical to the one she had given him.

'So much for a “new release,”' Aiken thought bitterly. It stung him to realize that Chelsea had taken the time to give Hadwin the watch herself, while she couldn’t even stay long enough to put it on Aiken’s wrist.

Churning with anger, Aiken tossed the watch and the overseas assignment papers into their bedroom drawer. Inside were also their marriage certificate and an unsigned divorce agreement.

The days dragged on, and Chelsea didn’t come home. Each time Aiken tried to contact her, it was Hadwin who answered the phone.

“Ms. Chelsea’s busy and doesn’t have time right now,” Hadwin said smoothly, his young voice brimming with confidence.

Aiken thought back over the seven years he and Chelsea had shared. It felt like everything fresh and exciting had turned cold and stale.

"Have her check her phone. I’ve sent her messages," Aiken said, his throat dry.

But Hadwin’s answer hit like a slap. “I’ve already deleted those. As Ms. Chelsea’s husband, isn’t it inappropriate for you to distract her from her work?”

Hadwin’s audacious words revealed his true colors. Aiken found it laughable yet infuriating. “Did Chelsea tell you to butt into our personal lives?”

With one hand gripping his phone and the other braced against his desk, Aiken’s voice was harsh. Only he knew how much insecurity lay beneath the surface—just cold disappointment and pain.

Even so, Hadwin remained unperturbed. He even managed to reply with composed confidence, "Mr. Gray, do you really think I’m just her personal assistant?"

That single sentence left Aiken humiliated, forcing him to end the call.

Of course. What kind of personal assistant would act so intimately?

Aiken stared down at other photos Hadwin had sent. In it, Chelsea was buried in work, reviewing documents and jotting down notes. Every now and then, she glanced up before refocusing on her work.

But that glance—it unintentionally carried tenderness. Aiken couldn’t help but think, 'So Chelsea can look at someone else that way too.'

While Chelsea stayed away, Aiken packed a few things and decided to visit her parents. He didn’t know how long he’d be gone for his overseas assignment, and it felt like the right thing to do.

Years ago, Chelsea’s father had been beaten and left disabled over unpaid debts, and her mother suffered from mental health struggles brought on by the trauma. But during this time, Chelsea had wanted to start her business, so Aiken had stepped in to help care for them.

After Chelsea found success, she moved her parents into a nursing home, though Aiken still visited them from time to time.

"Aiken, why didn’t Chelsea come with you?" Chelsea’s mother was delighted to see Aiken, holding his hand and chatting endlessly. "I know she’s busy, but you need to remind her to take care of herself. She listens to you more than anyone.”

Aiken forced a smile. It had been years since Chelsea really listened to him.

A year ago, Chelsea had started attending frequent social events, often drinking heavily and staying overnight at hotels. Back then, Aiken had frowned and urged her to drink less.

However, Chelsea, drunk and clinging to him, had reassured him. "It’s fine."

"It’s bad for your health. I don’t want you to get hurt," Aiken had said helplessly, massaging the crease in her brow. Chelsea had taken the opportunity to grasp his hand, pulling him closer for a wineflavored kiss.

“You worry too much. It’s good for building my tolerance," she had said, brushing it off.

Worried, Aiken had tried to offer a solution. “Next time, I’ll come with you. I’ll make sure no one pressures you to drink.”

But Chelsea had quickly waved it off. “No need. Why would you come? I wouldn’t want anyone forcing you to drink.”

Wrapping her arms around his waist, Chelsea’s cold, worndown demeanor had softened into warmth. "Your job is to stay at home and wait for me."

Third Person's POV

The second time, Aiken was greeted by Hadwin helping Chelsea home.

"Ms. Chelsea, your house is so big," Hadwin had said, his tone full of admiration as his eyes swept the room.

Aiken had stepped forward and took Chelsea from Hadwin’s grasp. He was about to thank the young man when Chelsea cut in.

"If you like it, I can arrange something for you another day."

Aiken’s brows had furrowed, but he kept quiet. Meanwhile, Hadwin had shaken his head shyly, though his gaze lingered on Chelsea with something close to awe. "No need, Miss. Just take care of yourself and drink less."

Chelsea had chuckled softly, almost indulgently. “Alright, Hadwin. Next time, you can supervise me.”

Such a doting tone had immediately unsettled Aiken. He then had asked Hadwin to leave, then took care of Chelsea, helping her freshen up.

As he had ran his fingers through Chelsea’s soft, silky hair, he couldn’t shake the memory of the admiration in Hadwin’s eyes—a feeling he couldn’t hide.

'Chelsea, you’re sharp as a blade, you must’ve noticed it, too,' Aiken had thought.

Yet the next day, she had said nothing about Hadwin.

Chelsea was never the type to forget what happened after drinking, but at that time, she had claimed she couldn’t remember a thing.

Later, curiosity got the better of Aiken, and he had checked Hadwin’s social media. That’s when he had noticed that all those business connections Hadwin had been bragging about were people Chelsea had introduced him to.

Chelsea’s mother noticed his distraction and called to him softly. “Aiken, are you alright?”

Aiken shook off the heavy feelings weighing on him and handed her an envelope.

“Mom, here. This is for you. It’s $70,000.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she immediately shook her head. “Oh, Aiken, you didn’t need to do this. Chelsea has already given us plenty.”

“Chelsea is Chelsea, and I’m me,” Aiken replied gently. “This is just a little something from me to you.”

Chelsea’s parents had always treated him well, never looking down on him despite Chelsea’s success. They had even supported his marriage to their daughter wholeheartedly. Now, with everything going on, Aiken had decided it was time to do right by them.

With a smile, he insisted on handing over the money. "Mom, please take it. Don’t make me worry."

“You sound like you’re about to leave for good,” she said, her tone a mix of concern and resignation. Still, she accepted the money when she saw how determined he was.

Unexpectedly, Chelsea walked in just then, carrying gift bags—and right behind her was Hadwin.

“Aiken, what are you doing here?” Chelsea’s eyes lit up when she saw him, and she hurried over to link her arm with his. “I got home earlier and didn’t see you.”

"That’s right. Ms. Chelsea was quite disappointed," Hadwin chimed in, his tone ambiguous.

Aiken forced a slight smile but said nothing. He withdrew his gaze from Hadwin and silently pulled his arm from Chelsea’s grasp.

Chelsea frowned, visibly unhappy with his reaction, and reached out to grab his hand again, but Hadwin’s words distracted her.

"Auntie, what’s that you’re holding? It looks like such a fancy envelope," Hadwin asked curiously, placing the gift bags aside to get a better look.

Aiken’s heart tightened. He wanted to change the subject, but Chelsea’s mother answered before he could.

"Aiken gave it to me."

"What's going on with you? Why are you giving Mom money out of nowhere?" Chelsea looked at Aiken inquisitively, sensing that something wasn’t right.

“The bank notified me about a deposit maturing, so I withdrew it,” Aiken explained, unwilling to make a scene here. He wanted to resolve things with Chelsea in private and end their relationship with dignity.

"Really?" Chelsea was skeptical, though unease began to creep into her heart. Recently, Aiken’s unusually quiet demeanor had been unsettling.

"Take it back," she said, unable to calm her growing irritation. Then, she grabbed the envelope from her mother and shoved it back into Aiken’s hands.

"I’ll transfer the money to you later, Mom," Chelsea said softly.

Aiken sighed quietly. It seemed he’d have to try again another time.

Third Person's POV

"Make sure you take these supplements," Chelsea's mother said warmly. She wasn’t one to fuss over money; all that mattered to her was her daughter’s success. Although, a soft sigh escaped her as if she carried a hint of regret. “The ones you and Hadwin brought last time, I haven’t even finished those yet.”

Aiken’s fingers froze midmotion. He thought Chelsea hadn’t visited in a long time, but it turned out she had—just not with him.

A dull ache quickly rose in his chest, leaving him breathless. As he tried to steady his breath, he watched Chelsea’s mother reach out and clasp Hadwin’s hand like he was family.

“Hadwin, how old are you now?” she asked, her tone motherly and warm. “Do you have a partner? If not, do you want Auntie to introduce you to someone?”

Aiken noticed Chelsea’s face change at her mother’s words. She quickly turned her head and spoke nervously, “Mom! Why are you playing matchmaker like this?”

Hadwin, however, didn’t seem bothered. He just smiled faintly, almost shyly, as he answered, “No need, Auntie. I already like someone.”

His words left everyone momentarily stunned. But Aiken’s fists tightened. Not wanting to hear what Hadwin might say next, he immediately stood up and excused himself. "I’m not feeling well. I’ll head back first."

He couldn’t bear to stay and feel the weight of the humiliation any longer.

“But we still have dinner plans,” Chelsea reminded him, catching his arm as he brushed past her. Her expression then softened into something hopeful. “Remember? I’m making up for missing our anniversary dinner.”

'Anniversary dinner?' Aiken thought bitterly. Their anniversary had passed over two weeks ago. Yet, when he met her eyes, she looked so much like the woman he had fallen in love with—bright, expectant, and full of life.

Years ago, Aiken had promised her he would always make her feel cherished. Even now, with his heart heavy, he couldn’t bring himself to break that promise.

"Alright," he gave up, thinking it would be their final meal together. Once it was over, he would pull out the divorce papers hidden in the drawer.

Smiling faintly, Aiken reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. Chelsea closed her eyes, leaning into his hand with a contented sigh.

"Aiken, you always take such good care of me," Chelsea murmured.

The words cut him deeply. Chelsea had drained every last bit of love he had to give. He knew, without a doubt, that he would never love anyone again in this lifetime.

When the meal ended, Hadwin brought up the restaurant they were going to.

"The desserts there are amazing. Ms. Chelsea specifically looked into it," he said casually.

Aiken couldn't help but find Hadwin’s remarks both amusing and ironic, especially when Chelsea lightly held his hand and said, "I heard that too. I wonder if they're as good as people say."

With a small smile, she added softly, "If they are, we’ll come back next year."

'Didn’t you already come here with Hadwin?' he wanted to say but stayed silent.

When they arrived, Chelsea led Aiken out of the car, motioning for Hadwin to join them.

“Hadwin told me earlier there’s no one at his house tonight, so he wanted to join us for dinner,” Chelsea explained gently. “Don’t worry. We’ll let him have his own table so we won’t be disturbed.”

Aiken noticed that Chelsea was being cautious, trying to be considerate of Aiken’s emotions. But he wanted to tell her there was no need because whatever calmness he had left shattered at that moment.

“Let him sit with us,” Aiken said coldly. "It’ll save you both the trouble."

With that, he pulled his hand free from hers and walked ahead into the restaurant without looking back.

Chelsea froze as she stared dwon at her empty hand. Panic quickly welled up in her chest, so hurried after him, grabbing his hand again.

“Aiken, are you upset?” she asked anxiously. “If you are, I’ll ask Hadwin to leave.”

Aiken glanced at Hadwin, who stood nearby, his expression stiffening noticeably.

“It’s fine,” Hadwin said quietly, his voice carrying an air of wounded innocence. “You two enjoy your meal. I’ll just head home and have some instant noodles.”

Aiken scoffed internally. The young man’s tone practically dripped with selfpity, but Chelsea, of course, was quick to comfort him.

“Don’t be silly. I’ll order you something to take home,” she said, letting go of Aiken’s hand to fuss over Hadwin. “Your stomach’s weak. You can’t just eat junk.”

Hadwin nodded meekly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Alright. Thank you, Miss.”

He then glanced between them with an apologetic smile, though his words didn’t match the look in his eyes. “I’m sorry for intruding on you today.”

Third Person's POV

"Of course not," Chelsea quickly brushed off. Still, Hadwin stood to his word and would go home by himself.

Chelsea watched Hadwin get into the car with concern. Meanwhile, Aiken stood behind her with his shoulders slumped forward, as if the weight of the world had settled squarely on him. Emotional turmoil piling over, he felt his chest tightened, making it hard to breathe.

When Chelsea finally turned back, she caught the distant look on his face—one she barely recognized.

Aiken’s pale lips quivered as he forced a bitter smile. "So, this is what you like now, huh, Chelsea?"

Her brows furrowed, confusion washing over her. "What are you talking about?" she asked, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him like she could hold the conversation together. "Hadwin’s just a junior from school. I’m just looking out for him a little more than usual. That’s all."

'This much care?' Aiken bitterly thought.

Chelsea was known for being sharp, almost cold, with most people. She set high standards for everyone, even her closest employees. Aiken had never seen her extend this kind of gentleness to anyone but him—not until now.

Slowly, he untangled himself from her embrace, giving her a faint smile. "Forget it. Let’s go inside."

Sensing something off about Aiken, Chelsea grew anxious. She grabbed his hand again, her grip firm but pleading.

"You're the only one I love, Aiken. Please believe me," she said sincerely. Then, she pulled out an exquisitely wrapped box from her bag and smilingly opened it, revealing a delicate necklace. "Look. You said it was beautiful—something you wanted."

The necklace sparkled under the light, a silver gleam catching Aiken’s eyes. But he didn’t move to take it. Instead, he sat down across from Chelsea and said softly, "Chelsea, you’ve already given me this before."

The atmosphere instantly grew heavy. Aiken’s faint smile was distant and unreachable, making Chelsea panic.

"Sorry, I’ve been so busy I forgot," she said, reaching out to hold his wrist. "Then tell me what you want. Whatever it is, as long as I can, I’ll give it to you."

"I want—" Aiken trailed off as the waiter arrived, setting down the desserts.

Once the waiter left, Chelsea looked at him again and gently asked, "What is it again?"

Aiken didn’t want to ruin the meal by rushing the conversation, so he changed the subject.

"Nothing. Let’s talk about it later."

Chelsea’s smile returned, bright and full of hope. "Alright, then it’s a surprise!"

She gracefully cut into the small cake in front of her, scooping the first bite onto her fork and holding it out to Aiken. "Here, try this. It looks pretty and tastes just as good."

Aiken accepted the bite reluctantly and the sweetness hit his tongue. He had to admit—it was good, better than most desserts he’d had.

'Is this why Chelsea and Hadwin came here?' he wondered. 'Did she feed him like this too?'

The thought left a sour taste in his mouth. He shook his head, but his pale face betrayed the turmoil inside him.

"What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?" Chelsea asked, concern filling her voice as she moved to sit closer to him. "Is the cake not good?"

He was about to answer, brushing it off, but before he could, her phone rang. Both of them glanced at the screen, where "Hadwin" flashed brightly in bold letters.

"I’ll just take this real quick," Chelsea said, letting go of Aiken’s hand. She picked up her phone and quickly walked outside.

Aiken stayed behind, clutching his stomach as a dull ache grew sharper by the second. The emotional strain was making it worse, turning the discomfort into something unbearable.

He reached for the glass of warm water by his plate, taking a slow sip, but it didn’t help. His medication was at home, far out of reach.

Dragging himself to his feet, he decided to find Chelsea and ask her to take him back. But as he reached the balcony, her voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Drink some water and lie down to rest," she said softly into the phone. Her tone was tender, gentle in a way that stung. "If you’ve got a fever, don’t try to cook."

After a pause, she spoke again. "You don’t have any medicine? I’ll grab some and bring it over."

Aiken leaned against the doorframe, every word cutting him deeper. He thought bitterly to himself, 'Maybe I should’ve passed out from the pain earlier or shouldn’t have come to this dinner in the first place.'

When Chelsea ended the call and came back inside, she found him standing there, pale and drenched in cold sweat.

Third Person's POV

"Chelsea, I’ve got acute gastroenteritis, and I don’t have my medication with me."

Aiken’s voice was calm, but the weight of his words hung heavy between them. Chelsea froze, her expression faltering just enough to betray her hesitation. That flicker was all Aiken needed to see.

He’d never resorted to manipulation before and had always prided himself on being above it. But here he was, using the very tactic he despised. And now that he had, he realized it didn’t make a difference. If anything, it only deepened the hollow ache in his chest, leaving him feeling more pathetic than before.

The quiet clinking of cutlery and muted voices from nearby diners filled the space. Gripping the hem of his shirt tightly, Aiken thought, 'It would be enough for me even if she only pitied me.'

But Chelsea’s next words broke through his fragile hope like glass. "Aiken, Hadwin has a fever. I’ll just have someone take you home, okay?"

Unaware of his pain, she crouched to meet his eyes and added, "You know how serious a high fever can be, right?" While you only have to go home, take some medicine, and you’ll feel better."

Aiken looked at Chelsea, who was pleading with him, and forced a faint smile. "Alright. But come back tonight. I’ve got something I need to talk to you about," he said, his tone barely above a whisper.

Chelsea’s face lit up with relief. She stood and kissed his forehead, her joy almost childlike. "I knew you wouldn’t make things difficult for me!"

"Mm," Aiken murmured, though he’d already gone numb. The words felt like they belonged to someone else. "But promise me—come back tonight."

"Of course!" Chelsea replied, confidence ringing in her voice.

She called for the waiter to settle the bill and quickly arranged a car to take Aiken home. As he watched her walk away, his vision blurred, and his head slumped onto the table.

"Sir! Sir!"

When Aiken opened his eyes again, he was in the hospital. The doctor asked for a family member to come sign the paperwork.

"There’s no need. I’ll handle it myself," he said.

It was already past 11 p.m., so Aiken thought Chelsea must be on her way back by now.

Despite his unsteady body, he struggled home, disheveled and weak. But as he approached the front door, he saw Hadwin dropping Chelsea off.

"Why are you only getting back now?" Aiken’s voice was sharp and cold as he stepped closer.

Chelsea rushed to his side, reaching for his hand. But the moment she touched him, she pulled back in shock. "Aiken, your hands are freezing! Go inside and warm up—quick."

"I’ll help him in," Hadwin offered politely.

But Aiken, uncharacteristically harsh, commanded coldly, "Leave. I don’t want to see you right now."

Hadwin froze, the tension hanging thick in the air. Sensing Aiken’s foul mood, Chelsea motioned for Hadwin to go. Once he was gone, she took Aiken by the arm and led him inside.

Before they could even sit, Aiken went to the drawer and pulled out a document. With a loud thud, he placed it on the table in front of Chelsea.

Chelsea’s eyes widened as she read the bold title: [Divorce Agreement.]