Chapter 2
But in this timeline, Samuel was very unhappy about my habit.
At that time, he threw my hair clip on the floor, just short of pointing at me and scolding.
"Don't leave clips lying around. The curtain now has marks because of you."
That was our first year of marriage, and the look of annoyance on his face made me feel detached from reality for the first time.
When love was gone, everything changed.
After that, I stopped leaving things on the curtains and stubbornly clipped on a small hairpin, trying to recreate the life we once had.
I imagined Samuel by my side, still the person I had loved for decades.
I had almost finished clearing out the bedroom; there were still some miscellaneous things in the living room.
In an unremarkable corner lay a small bag of snacks.
I picked it up and threw it in the trash, and tears started falling without warning.
In the three years I'd been here, I had barely eaten any snacks.
Yet I was someone who loved to snack.
After I got together with Joshua, one day he said he had taken on another position.
I was a little confused.
"You got promoted?" I asked.
He shook his head and proudly showed off the small cart behind him.
"I'm here to be your snack restocker."
Whether love was there or not, it showed, unmistakably.
In this timeline, Samuel disliked the strange taste of snacks and forbade me from eating them.
Now that I was about to die, I bought a lot of snacks out of spite, and the more I ate, the more wronged I felt.
After everything was packed up, Samuel came home from work.
As soon as he entered, he saw the empty house and looked around with a frown.
"Why is the house so empty? Where did everything go?" he asked.
I swallowed the food in my mouth, and before I could speak, the doorbell rang again.
Samuel's expression tightened, as if he had guessed who was coming.
Afraid I would answer the door, he turned and walked to the entrance first, opening it just a crack.
I couldn't hear their quiet conversation, but I felt Tamia's provocative gaze.
Seeing this, I stood up and strode forward, pulling the door open at once.
"Ms. Sloan, why aren't you coming inside?"
Tamia's smile froze, clearly surprised by my straightforwardness.
A hint of discomfort flashed across Samuel's face as well.
"Sorry for disturbing you so late. There's an urgent project at the company that needs your signature, Mr. Pearson."
As she spoke, she raised the folder in her hand.
I stayed silent, my gaze lingering on her slightly rounded belly.
"Ms. Sloan, how many months has it been?"
Tamia paused, then glanced ambiguously at Samuel.
"It's been three months, right?"
I nodded knowingly.
In nine months, they had a child.
I stopped talking; the atmosphere grew a bit tense.
Samuel cleared his throat and looked at Tamia with implication.
"It's getting late. Head back first. I'll handle the project tonight."
Tamia glanced at me, then pouted at Samuel.
"But it's so dark outside. I'm afraid I won't be able to get a taxi," she said.
This meant Samuel would be the one to take her home.
I suddenly lost interest and was about to go back to eat, but Samuel's response surprised me.
He stared at Tamia for a moment, his tone carrying a hint of warning.
"I've already called a cab for you. My wife gets scared being home alone at night, so it's better for you to head home early. I won't be seeing you off," he said.
Tamia's previously expectant face fell instantly. She gave me a fierce look and angrily turned to leave.
I didn't quite understand his reaction today, but then I thought about it. After three years of marriage, no matter how indifferent Samuel seemed, he had never left me alone at night.
Even when he had been on business trips, he always called me at night and stayed on the phone until I fell asleep.
This was all because I'd told him I was afraid of the dark, especially when I was home by myself.
Samuel also noticed my gaze and awkwardly took my hand.
"I've already told you there's nothing going on between us. Now do you believe it?"
I nodded quietly, withdrew my hand, and sat back at the table to eat.
Seeing that I said nothing, he looked somewhat displeased, glancing at the food on the table out of the corner of his eye.
"You started dinner before I got back?" he asked.
I used to wait for him to come home before eating. If he worked overtime, I would reheat the dishes several times.
Samuel stepped forward a few more steps, his gaze sweeping across the dishes on the table one by one.
"All spicy dishes? Don't you know I don't like spicy food?"
He doesn't like spicy food, but I can't live without it.
For the past three years, I've always accommodated him.
But now, there was no need for that.
I picked up a large mouthful of food.
"If you don't want to eat, just order takeout," I said.