Chapter 3
When I got home, this was what greeted me.
A pair of immaculate men's dress shoes on the rack, and right beside them, a set of towering ten-centimeter high heels.
From the study, faint, muffled sounds drifted out.
My heart skipped a beat, a cold dread washing over me.
Not even bothering to change my shoes, I rushed upstairs and pushed the study door open.
Charlie stood with his back to me, phone in hand. The long, ten-centimeter scar across his upper back was strikingly visible.
He got that saving me from a group of bullies in school.
There were seven or eight of them, some even armed with knives.
I was terrified that day, but Charlie appeared like a sudden ray of light, pulling me out of that hell.
He took on all of them with his bare hands and managed to knock every one of them down.
But he paid the price—that scar on his back is permanent.
Noticing the sound at the door, he glanced over his shoulder, said a few final words into the phone, and hung up.
Pushing down my swirling thoughts, I walked up to him and looked up at his face. "Finished with work?"
He gave a slight nod, reaching for his shirt on the sofa.
I took a deep breath, gathering my courage. "The high heels downstairs... whose are they?"
His hands stilled for a moment, but his expression remained unreadable. He met my gaze, his tone casual, almost indifferent. "Brynlee's."
It hit me like a physical blow.
I had braced myself for any number of excuses, but I never expected him to just admit it outright.
We didn't speak another word to each other that night. Charlie didn't even come to the master bedroom.
I fell into a fitful sleep alone in our bed.
I have night blindness, so I always keep my bedside lamp on.
Later, in my haze, I felt a warm presence behind me, and a faint, familiar scent of mint...
It smelled just like Charlie's.
But I knew it wasn't him.
He could never bring himself to care for me.
I woke slowly on Saturday morning, the pain in my chest sharper than ever.
I lay in bed for a while, steadying myself, making sure I looked normal before getting up.
Charlie was standing by the entrance, just finishing putting on his shoes. He was clearly on his way out.
"Charlie, where are you going?"
He frowned, impatience flashing across his face. "The cemetery. To visit my parents."
"Oh." I nodded.
He never let me accompany him to visit his parents' grave. I never knew why, and I never dared to go against his wishes.
Around him, I was always walking on eggshells.
But maybe it was because I knew my time was short. Something made me ask, "Charlie... could I come with you? I'd like to pay my respects too. They were my parents as well."
His hand, which had been on the doorknob, stilled. He stood there, frozen for a second.
When he spoke, his voice was icy, chilling me to the bone.
"Alana, you don't deserve to see them."
The door slammed shut with a heavy thud. I stood there for a long moment, but surprisingly, my heart felt calm.
After all, in Charlie's eyes, I was never truly his wife.
Everything that happened was just the consequence of my own foolish hopes.
That same day marked the anniversary of my own father's passing, a day I should have spent honoring his memory.
Since he was laid to rest in the same cemetery, and I feared upsetting Charlie if he saw me there, I decided to visit my mother instead.
As fate would have it, I ran into Charlie just as I was leaving my mom's.
Brynlee was standing beside him.
For a second, I was stunned, but I quickly masked it.
Putting on a calm front, I walked up and met his gaze. "Charlie, I thought you were visiting your parents?"
He remained silent, but Brynlee chirped up, "Alana. Mr. Sanders and I just paid our respects. We were actually on our way to get a bite to eat. Funny running into you here."