Chapter 2
Agnes let out a dismissive snort. "She's waiting for you to give in. Don't spoil her. The more you pamper a woman, the more she'll take advantage."
Then, Emily pushed the door open, carrying breakfast.
"Michael, I got you some breakfast. You didn't sleep at all last night, so you should eat something," she said, her tone casual.
As if she were the rightful one to look after him.
Michael took the breakfast, his voice softening a bit. "Really appreciate it."
"No trouble at all," Emily replied, lowering her head, her ears turning a little red.
Watching them, I couldn't help but think back to the year Michael and I got married.
His stomach was always sensitive, so I'd get up early every morning to make him oatmeal.
Afraid he'd find it too plain, I kept switching up the recipes.
I often paired it with maple syrup, nuts, or fruits. I tried every combination.
He never appreciated it, not once.
He never said thank you, either.
He'd button up his suit and say, "You don't have to do these pointless things for me. I'm not used to it."
But when Emily brought him instant oatmeal, he'd finish it without protest, as if it mattered.
People really were different.
Later that morning, Michael's sister, Sophie, came by.
She started complaining the moment she walked in, "Michael, isn't Grace out of line? She didn't show up for Mom's birthday, and she didn't post anything about it online. Does she think she's too good for our family or what?"
Michael didn't say a word.
Sophie kept complaining, "And remember last time? She said I took her necklace. I just wanted to borrow it for a bit. Does she really have to be so stingy?"
I hovered nearby, shaking with anger.
That necklace was an heirloom from my mom.
Sophie grabbed it for a party without asking and ended up losing one of the pearls.
I only asked her to apologize.
But Agnes claimed I was throwing my weight around as Michael's wife, picking on Sophie.
Michael said, "It's only a necklace. Don't make a scene at home."
It was only a necklace, after all.
Just another way of telling me to leave him alone.
They always shrugged off my feelings as if they meant nothing.
In the hospital room, Agnes listened to Sophie, then immediately turned to Michael. "Call her. Have her apologize to Sophie today. And don't forget the soup she promised. She can't break her word like that. That's not how we do things in this family."
Michael paused for a few seconds, then called me.
My phone didn't ring because it was already dead.
All he got was a robotic female voice. "The number you have dialed is powered off."
Michael's face turned cold. "Her phone's off?"
Sophie curled her lip. "See? She did it on purpose."
Emily stood off to the side and whispered, "Maybe Grace just wants you to coax her."
Michael tossed his phone onto the couch. "Let her. She'll regret it soon enough."
I looked at him.
I felt a sudden urge to laugh.
Michael, regret wasn't an option for me anymore.
It was raining outside the hospital by noon. Emily hadn't brought an umbrella. Michael grabbed his car keys and offered to give her a ride home.
Agnes looked pleased. "You should give Emily a ride. She's been doing so much for me, unlike that daughter-in-law."
Michael didn't say a word.
I followed them into the car.
Emily sat in the passenger seat and, as she buckled her seatbelt, she paused on purpose.
Michael leaned in and fastened it for her.
They were inches apart, close enough for me to catch the anticipation in Emily's eyes.
She asked softly, "Michael, how have you been these past years?"
Michael gripped the steering wheel, silent for a moment. "Not bad," he said.
"Are things okay... between you and Grace?" Emily asked.
The car fell silent. The windshield wipers swept back and forth.
Michael's fingers tightened on the wheel. "She's too sensitive."
Emily gave a wry smile. "Is it because I came back? If I'm the reason you two are fighting, I can stay out of your way."
Michael cut in, "This isn't about you."
I drifted in the back seat, watching his profile.
And then it hit me. He knew exactly why I was hurting. He didn't care.
Half a month ago, Emily returned home. Michael went to the airport to pick her up.
That day was our wedding anniversary. I cooked a feast and waited for him from 7 to 11 at night.
When he finally came back, he smelled like Emily's usual perfume.
I asked him where he'd been.
He said, "Picking up a friend who got back from abroad."
"Was it Emily?" I asked.
His face darkened instantly. "Grace, can you stop interrogating me like I'm some kind of criminal?"
That night, we had a huge fight.
He said I was petty, accused me of being paranoid, and claimed he'd tolerated me for years.
When it was all said and done, I asked him, "Michael, do you regret marrying me?"
He didn't answer.
Sometimes, silence stung more than any answer ever could.
The car pulled up in front of Emily's apartment building.
Emily didn't get out right away.
She lowered her gaze, quietly fiddling with her fingers. "Michael, it wasn't easy for me to leave back then."
Michael looked at her.
I caught a brief uncertainty in his eyes.
Emily's eyes grew misty. "My dad owed a lot of money, and I didn't want to drag you into it, so I went abroad. I always wanted to get in touch with you, but I was scared you'd end up resenting me."
Michael spoke in a low voice, "It's all in the past."
Emily shook her head. "I can't move on. At least, I can't."
She held her hand over her heart, looking at him. "What about you?"