Chapter 4
The next morning, I was woken up by the sounds coming from the kitchen downstairs.
After washing up, I went downstairs and saw James standing by the counter, awkwardly chopping up some fruit.
He was wearing silk pajamas, his sleeves rolled up.
His brows furrowed like he was tackling some complicated project.
When he saw me come down, he pointed at the breakfast on the table.
"Lorraine made it. Eat it while it's hot," he said.
I walked over and saw a bowl of oatmeal with peanut butter.
I was allergic to peanuts.
He'd known about my allergy since our first year together.
Back then, he'd rushed me to the ER in the middle of the night, grabbing the doctor's hand and asking if my life was in danger.
Now, he couldn't even remember my allergies.
I stared at the bowl, not touching it.
James came out with a plate of sliced fruit. Seeing me standing there, he looked a bit impatient. "Lorraine made it.
"Olivia got used to having peanut butter oatmeal for breakfast when she was abroad, so I had Lorraine whip up an extra batch.
"If you don't like yours, go fix it in the kitchen."
I looked up at him.
"James, I'm seriously allergic to peanuts. You were the one who personally took me to the ER our first year together," I said.
He froze, an awkward look flashing across his face.
"Then toss it if you can't eat it," he said.
Just then, Olivia pushed the door open and walked in.
"Morning, James," she said.
She took the fruit with a smile, but shot me a defiant look from the corner of her eye.
"Thanks for remembering I love strawberries," she said.
James replied in an impossibly gentle tone. "I'm glad you like it."
I ignored them, turned away, and went upstairs.
I pushed open the door at the end of the hallway.
This was the nursery I'd spent two months designing and decorating myself.
The walls were painted a soft yellow, and the corners were piled high with plush toys.
On the crib's railing, I'd hung a wind chime I'd sewn myself, stitch by stitch.
I walked in and silently started packing the toys into a cardboard box.
I hadn't even noticed when James followed me upstairs.
He leaned against the doorframe, watching me, his brows knitting together again.
He asked, "What are you up to now?
"The baby's not even due for another six months. Why are you already packing up the toys?"
I didn't stop what I was doing.
"There's no use for them now," I replied quietly.
James let out a mocking laugh. "Emily, do you really think this is some kind of joke?
"Olivia said she likes the way this room faces. Since the baby's not here yet, I figured she could stay here for a few days.
"You not only said no, but you're making a fuss here to get attention.
"You never used to be so petty and childish."
I put the last wind chime into the box and sealed it up with tape.
Turned out, he'd even hand over the nursery I prepared to impress another woman.
"If that's what she wants, she can have it," I said.
I stood up, dusting off my hands.
"I've cleared out the room," I added.
James froze, caught completely off guard.
He obviously didn't expect me to cave so quickly.
In his mind, I was supposed to throw a fit, and then he'd just shut me down with all his so-called logic.
"You," he started, but the words caught in his throat.
He opened his mouth, like he wanted to say something, but in the end, he just swallowed it back.
"Guess you finally know your place," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
He let out a cold snort and turned to leave.
"I've got a meeting at the office today. Just stay home," he said.
I watched him walk away, my gaze empty, showing not a hint of emotion.
I went back to the master bedroom and started packing my things.
No clothes, skincare products, or documents were left.
My suitcase was packed full.
Later that afternoon, James's assistant came to drop off some paperwork.
After I signed it, I grabbed the trash bag from the table.
I walked out to the trash can in the yard and tossed the bag in.
The bag split open.
A crumpled ultrasound scan slipped out, its corner peeking through.
Just then, James's car pulled into the villa's driveway.
He parked his car and strolled over.
His gaze drifted to the trash can.