Chapter 3
The next morning, as I was about to head to work, Charles, who had rushed back after working all night, blocked my way at the door.
"I've already got you the day off. Let's make up for your birthday," he said.
"It's fine, I've got a lot of work today," I replied.
"I've got everything arranged."
He pulled me inside and set the cake on the table.
He looked exhausted from a sleepless night, his face weighed down by a heavy, troubled expression.
Maybe he was struggling with his conscience for making me go through the abortion.
"Charles, let's get a divorce," I said.
I never thought it'd be this easy to say.
"I've been by your side for ten years. From now on, you'll have to go on alone," I added.
He froze for a moment, staring at me in shock.
After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice as gentle as ever.
"Summer, come on, it's not that bad. Is this because Anna was messing with you and now you're upset?" he asked.
Because I'd always put up with things before, he just thought I was being moody.
"Or is it because I forgot your birthday?" he added.
He slapped himself hard, then tried to explain everything, desperate to make me understand.
I couldn't think of anything else to say but to ask for a divorce.
Actually,from my past life up until I opened my eyes yesterday, it had been ages since I'd seen him like this.
He felt so unfamiliar.
But if I didn't leave soon, I'd definitely be late for work. I grabbed my bag and headed for the door.
He took a few quick steps and stood in my way, his voice heavy and dull.
"Don't be like this, okay?" he tried to soothe me gently.
"Your day off is already set. Even if you go to the office, there's nothing for you to do. Your work's already been handed off," he added.
With that, he locked the door.
He opened the cake box, gave me a soft smile, and beckoned me over.
"I got your favorite, chocolate cake," he said.
Then he got up, drew the curtains, kept a small lamp on, and lit the candles.
I lingered at the door, not sure how much time had passed.
In the end, I let my bag drop and walked over, slow and hesitant.
I closed my eyes, made a wish, then blew out the candles.
He slid a small box over to me, looking at me expectantly, motioning for me to open it.
I didn't even want to look at it. I let it sit there, didn't bother to pick it up.
We sat across from each other at the table, the room dimly lit.
I kept my eyes down, staring at the tiny couple kissing on the cake.
"Charles, you might not believe it, but there was a time I almost killed you," I said, my voice steady.
That day, I prepared a feast and spiked his wine with a ton of sleeping pills.
After the first time he cheated, I started seeing a therapist—and began stashing away every sleeping pill I got.
He lost consciousness.
I held a knife to his throat.
"I remember that day. When you woke up, there was a bloody gash on your neck," He said quietly.
Charles asked softly, "Then why did nothing happen to me?"
I couldn't believe it. He wasn't even scared, but calmly asked me why.
"I was terrified, frozen in place. You woke up in the middle and said a single word," I replied.
"What?"
"Candy."
"You brought me candy when you came back from your trip," I added.
I picked up the gift box from the table and gave it a shake—the candies inside jingled and clattered against the sides.
"You told me to have some candy and not to cry anymore," I said.