Chapter 2
Fred said while wiping the spilled drink from Rosalind's clothes, "I thought you were sensible, but I never expected you to be so cruel.
"It's an anniversary. Does that really matter more than someone's life?"
Fred didn't even bother to hear me out. He started yelling at me, not caring about the truth, and slapped me hard across the face.
My cheek stung with pain.
Rosalind hid behind Fred, putting on an act to defend me. "Halle really didn't mean it," she said.
Fred threw his coat over Rosalind's shoulders, then scooped her up in his arms and carried her out of the barbecue place right in front of me.
I went home alone in a cab.
Later that night, I was scrolling through Instagram when I came across a video.
In the clip, Fred and Rosalind were doing the Pocky challenge.
Rosalind had one end of the chocolate stick between her teeth, snapped off half with her fingers, and then offered it to Fred.
The crowd around them kept egging them on. Finally, Fred took a bite from the other end.
Their lips were about to touch.
If this had happened before, I would've stormed over there in a heartbeat.
This time, I watched it like it was nothing and saved the video. It might come in handy someday.
Fred didn't get home until eleven. I had just stepped out of the bathroom at that moment.
He tossed me a tube of ointment, like he was doing charity work. "This is for the swelling."
That was his classic peace offering. He was always the type to slap me one second, then hand me a candy the next.
"Put it on the table," I said.
He set it down and headed straight for the shower.
He left his phone on the table. It kept buzzing nonstop. Without thinking, I instinctively reached for it.
It was a message from Rosalind. [Thanks for coming to the office and rescuing me today, Fred. Thanks for making tonight super fun.]
Before I could even put the phone down, Fred suddenly came out of the bathroom.
He snatched the phone from my hand and barked, "How dare you look at my phone?"
I said, "I didn't..."
But seeing him so focused on his phone, I lost any urge to explain myself.
Fred grabbed his phone and went back into the bathroom.
then, my phone started ringing.
I answered. A laid-back guy's voice drifted through the line. "So, how's the whole divorce thing going? Need me to step in?"
I chuckled, "How about you get me a divorce lawyer?"
"No problem. If you need anything else, hit me up," he replied.
I told him sure and hung up, then began gathering my personal belongings in the bedroom.
Half an hour later, Fred came out of the bathroom and seemed to notice the dressing table looked emptier than usual.
He frowned and said, "Halle, I'm heading to London for a business trip in a few days. If you need anything, make me a list."
I shook my head. "It's fine. I don't need anything."
We were splitting up soon anyway, so there was no point in asking him for stuff.
Fred said, slapping the table, his gaze cold as ice, "Are you still sulking about what happened this afternoon?
"Rosalind didn't even care that you spilled that drink on her. What gives you the right to act all moody and dramatic?"
I was about to say I wasn't upset, but Fred cut me off before I could even open my mouth.
"Halle, don't get carried away!" he snapped.
He marched out of the bedroom and slammed the door shut behind him.
This wasn't the first time Fred had given me the silent treatment.
Every single time, I was the one swallowing my pride and making up first.
But this time, I didn't care anymore.
The next morning, Fred left for the office early in the morning.
The housekeeper made me a special breakfast.
She said, "You are lucky, Mrs. Shelton. Mr. Shelton reminded me not to add any scallions to your oatmeal since he thought you might not like them."
I smiled and kept quiet.
Honestly, she already knew my preferences without Fred having to remind her.
She was saying that to flatter me. It was not like Fred actually cared about me.
If this had been before, I probably would've fallen for it without a second thought.
But now, my feelings for Fred were completely gone.
Ever since I married Fred, I barely had a presence in the professional world.
The reason was simple. Fred didn't like it.
Anything he didn't approve of was banned from our home, like the violin I loved to play, or the job I'd worked so hard at for a few years.
At home, all I had to do was play the role of the perfect trophy wife.
Out in public, Fred wouldn't let me socialize. He rarely brought me along to any gatherings or functions.
People in high society barely knew who I really was, though I was Fred's wife.
But today, in a rare twist, Fred actually invited me to a party.
He wrote: [There's an event tonight. You need to come.
[I'll have the driver pick you up.]
He sent a string of messages, informing me, without giving me any say in the matter.
He didn't give me a choice.
I wrote: [Got it.]
I wasn't interested in the party at all, so I slipped into whatever dress was handy and walked out the door.
The driver dropped me off at the venue.