Chapter 2
I endured the mocking looks from everyone around me and shot a look at Charles.
But Charles just laughed along with them.
Emily exaggerated her head shake.
Emily said, "Oh, it's just that I'm not like you. I'm all about being a modern independent woman, staying single, and not having kids.
"Otherwise, Charles would be begging at my feet."
Charles just laughed and denied it.
He said, "Emily, your family's wonderful, and your parents are both highly educated. She can't even compare to you.
"Her parents are illiterate and only care about having sons. Her dad is abusive, and now her mom's basically lost her mind.
"She's just like her mom now, useless and with no self-respect."
My spine felt like it had turned to stone, and I couldn't move at all. My throat clenched up.
Humiliation and betrayal cut deep, like someone had ripped my skin off, leaving me bleeding and exposed.
But they just kept laughing and joking.
Charles jabbed me in the side, not bothering to hold back, and a dull ache shot through me.
I sucked in a sharp breath.
Emily noticed, tapped her bowl, and jumped in to back Charles up.
She said, "You're tough as leather, so quit acting all fragile.
"Besides, Charles's arms are so weak. He couldn't even last two minutes with me."
Charles hiked up his sleeves and flexed his biceps.
He said, "Didn't your teacher ever teach you to tell the truth? I could go for an hour, no problem."
Emily started poking and pinching him.
"Oh wow, that's actually pretty solid. Might be the hardest part of you," she said.
Charles caught her hand.
"Have you even tried? Quit acting like you know everything," Charles said.
Things were getting pretty flirty between the two of them.
I shot to my feet.
"I'm going to get the cake," I said.
Emily called out to me.
"What are you going to the kitchen for? The delivery guy's downstairs," she said.
Charles jumped in to explain.
"Oh, right, Helen. Emily's cake got delivered to the parcel locker. Go grab it," he said.
I just stood there.
"But I baked a cake myself, and I used only the best stuff," I said.
Emily scoffed.
She said, "Seriously? You think your homemade cake can compete with one from a Michelin-star pastry chef?
"I had to call in favors just to get this cake. Housewives like you probably only get to taste something this fancy once in a lifetime.
"Charles, you're a university professor. Don't tell me your taste is as basic as a housewife's."
Charles was clearly losing face and just kept urging me.
"Just go already," he said.
I bit back everything I wanted to say, chewed on the inside of my lip, and went downstairs to fetch the cake.
The delivery guy had left the cake on top of the parcel locker.
I stood on my tiptoes, stretching my arm as far as I could, but no matter what, I just couldn't reach it.
It was just like my life, always trying to please Charles, but no matter how hard I tried, I could never win his heart.
We barely knew each other for a week after our blind date before we tied the knot.
At our wedding ceremony, Charles got so wasted that he was hugging a chair like his life depended on it, sobbing uncontrollably, and nobody could get him to stop.
His mom claimed he was just too happy for words.
But I knew deep down, he was crying over someone he could never call his own.
After we got married, we settled into the same routine as any regular married couple.
I'd get up early to make breakfast, iron his shirts, and send him off to work.
Now and then, he'd give me a peck on the lips before heading out.
Sometimes, on a whim, he'd drive me around late at night, searching for some street food stalls selling pancakes.
I thought he was finally falling for me.
So I showed him all my flaws, all the ugly sides of me, thinking he might actually care.
But I never thought he'd turn all that into something to joke about with his buddies.
Did he really change, or did he just never truly see me at all?
Just remembering how he talked about my family made me clench up inside, anger simmering beneath the surface.
Fueled by that frustration, I gritted my teeth, jumped up, and desperately managed to snag the cake box.
I wanted to act like it was an accident and let that black box crash and shatter.
Even better if it smacked Emily right in the face.
But I held back.
Just like my mom, after she'd been hit, she pretended nothing was wrong.
I put on an act, going about my business like everything was normal.
I moved the cake with extra care, holding back my emotions as I finally got it in my hands.