Chapter 2
Michael quickly sent me a few photos.
All of them were group shots. Dozens of people crammed together, smiling so much it looked almost forced.
He was right in the middle, surrounded by a bunch of male colleagues, really looked like he belonged there.
But Sophie wasn't in any of the photos.
He probably thought he could cover it up, and I wouldn't notice.
Honestly, it was almost cute how naive he was.
When we got home that night, I told Michael I was tired and asked him to go take a shower first.
As soon as he stepped into the bathroom, I turned on the smart speaker in the living room.
I scrolled through the playback history.
Row after row of my favorite songs filled the list until I reached 9:30 last night.
And there it was, the cringey viral song I absolutely hated.
It was Sugar Love.
I hated that song. The lyrics were so cheesy and brainless, and Michael knew exactly how much I despised them.
He used to joke that if anyone dared play it around him, he'd rip their head off.
But now, there it was, right there in our playback history at home.
It was precisely the time for what he called a team-building dinner.
I snapped a picture of the playback history, a chill running through me.
These past few days, Michael had been extra attentive.
He'd make breakfast for me, jump at the chance to do the dishes after dinner, and even pick up a single strand of my hair from the floor, gently tucking it behind my ear.
"Honey, you've been working so hard lately, you're even losing your hair," he said.
His voice was full of concern.
Seeing him put on that lovesick, devoted act, I honestly felt like throwing up.
On Friday after work, he actually came home with a bag from the market. Something he almost never did.
"Honey, I'm cooking tonight. I'm making your favorite baked tilapia," he said, sounding all excited.
He practically bounded into the kitchen, full of energy.
I just stood there, frozen, watching his back and not budging an inch.
Half an hour later, he brought out a baked tilapia and set it on the table.
It was garnished with fresh parsley and bright red pepper flakes.
Michael served me a piece of fish with extra care. "Come on, give it a try. I got the recipe straight from your mom."
I looked at the fish in my bowl, then at his expectant face.
"Michael," I said quietly, "I'm allergic to parsley and garlic. Did you really forget?"
His smile froze on his face.
Back when we first started dating, we went out for dinner, and I accidentally ate something with garlic in it. I broke out in hives all over, couldn't breathe, and ended up in the ER.
After that, he freaked out even more than I did. Parsley and garlic basically vanished from our kitchen.
But now, he'd personally cooked up a fish loaded with parsley and actually wanted me to dig in.
"I," Michael blurted out, jumping up so fast he looked like he'd seen a ghost. His face went completely pale. "Emily, I-I honestly forgot. I swear, I didn't do it on purpose."
He scrambled, trying to grab the plate of fish and get it out of my sight.
"It's fine," I said, reaching out to stop him.
I forced a smile. "Forget it. People change, that's all."
In that moment, I knew some things just couldn't go back to the way they were.
It wasn't that he forgot. He just stopped trying to remember.
In the end, neither of us touched the food.
The fish on the plate grew cold, just like our love, turning cold and lifeless.
Our wedding anniversary was just around the corner.
The air reeked of the sour stench of love.
Michael must've figured the fish fiasco had put me in a bad mood, so lately he'd been trying even harder to please me.
He booked us a table at the priciest restaurant in town, said he had a surprise for me.
The day before our anniversary, he handed me a beautifully wrapped gift box with a mysterious air.
"Happy anniversary, honey," he said.
I opened the box, and inside was a set of black lace sexy lingerie.
There was hardly any fabric at all. The design was bold, barely covering anything, and totally meant to show off.
It was definitely not my vibe.
What I liked was pure cotton that was comfortable and soft, rather than this kind of suffocating stuff.
"You like it?" he murmured, wrapping his arms around me from behind, his chin on my shoulder, breath quickening. "Put it on for me tonight."
I held those pathetic scraps of fabric between my fingers, a cold smirk tugging at my lips.
His taste couldn't get any worse.
I faked a surprise and took the box. "Wow, I love it. Anything you pick out for me, babe, I'm all in."
While he was in the shower, I rummaged through his coat pockets and easily found the shopping receipt.
Clear as day: [Two Blazing Rose black lace lingerie]
[Deal: Buy one, get the second half off]
He bought two sets, and the second one was half price.
Michael really was such a thoughtful husband, always looking out for the household budget.
I snapped a photo of the receipt, slipped it back into his pocket, and acted like nothing ever happened.
The next morning, before work, I went all out with my makeup and slipped into a fresh new dress I'd just bought.
Michael's eyes practically sparkled when he saw me.
"Wow, babe, you look amazing today," he said.
"Oh, really?" I fussed with my hair in front of the mirror. "Well, it's a special day. Gotta set the mood, right?"
Michael grinned, looking totally satisfied, and before heading out, he reminded me, "Don't forget our date tonight, and make sure you wear that little something I got you."
I nodded, but the second the door closed behind him, my smile dropped off my face.
I took out the gift box and looked at the black lace inside, a scheme quietly brewing in my mind.
Since Michael just obsessed with surprises.
Well, tonight, I'd give him a "surprise" he'll remember for the rest of his life.