Chapter 3

Gordon paused for a moment and then snapped, his voice laced with frustration.

He said, "Can you stop making up these wild suspicions? She's helped out a lot around our house.

"Isn't it normal to show some concern? I honestly don't know what's wrong with you lately—always thinking the worst."

"Whatever. Just don't forget the vitamins," Gordon added. Then he hung up the phone.

I held my phone, staring blankly as I went over every single line of my conversation with Gordon in my head, lost in my thoughts.

No matter how many times I replayed it, I realized he only asked about me once. All the rest was just him going on and on about Cassidy.

I lay weakly on the hospital bed, waiting for the anesthesia to wear off completely.

To pass the time, I subconsciously picked up my phone and scrolled through my social media feed.

Half an hour ago, Cassidy posted a new update.

It was a grid of nine photos, all taken inside a luxury store.

I scrolled through them one by one, and in every single shot, I could spot Gordon in the background.

Sometimes it was just his hand, those distinct knuckles I used to know so well.

Sometimes it was his gleaming leather shoes—shined to perfection, the very ones I had polished for him countless times.

Or maybe it was that low, gentle voice coming across Live Photo—a tenderness that, somehow, no longer seemed to belong to me.

After the procedure, a dull ache lingered in my lower abdomen. Gritting my teeth, I pressed a hand to my belly and slowly pushed myself up.

I grabbed two bottles of vitamins from the pharmacy before leaving the hospital.

I grabbed a ride back home. The place felt so dead—there wasn't a trace of anyone around.

Too tired to do anything else, I ended up ordering delivery and sent my boss a quick text about my upcoming trip overseas.

It wasn't long before I heard the sound of the front door unlocking.

Gordon came in, all smiles and laughing with Cassidy. Both had their arms full of high-end shopping bags.

I gave both of them a frosty stare.

Gordon, noticing my gaze, stepped aside, putting some space between himself and Cassidy.

He put down the luxury shopping bags and walked over to me.

"You're back from the hospital? Let me see your hand," he said.

As he said this, he lowered his head and tried to take my hand.

Instinctively, I pulled my hand away, my tone icy and flat. "It's nothing."

This was the first time I had ever spoken to Gordon so coldly.

Gordon froze, like he had just been rooted to the spot. After a moment, he finally asked, "Are you mad?"

The old me might have cried and shouted over something like this. But now, my heart was gradually growing numb. I simply didn't care anymore.

I shook my head gently and took another bite of my pasta, as if everything before me had nothing to do with me.

Gordon stood off to the side, looking awkward and a little out of place. After hesitating, he rummaged through his pocket and finally took out a silk scarf.

"I noticed you don't have this kind of scarf in your collection, so I thought it would look great with your clothes. I picked it up for you," he said gently.

Cassidy let out a light, timely laugh from the side, her voice sickly sweet.

"That's right, Cassidy, Gordon's been thinking about you all day," she chimed in.

I barely lifted my eyelids, my gaze settling on that scarf.

This brand was always kind of niche, and the way they matched these colors was honestly pretty odd.

On my way home, I had even seen Cassidy ranting on her feed about how the luxury store handed this scarf out as a promotional freebie—she said it looked so dated and ugly.

I never imagined Gordon would pass it off as a gift for me.

I brushed his hand aside, my tone cold as ice.

"Did it ever cross your mind that the reason I don't own anything like this is because it's actually awful?" I said.

Gordon's face instantly darkened. He tossed the scarf aside, his tone growing harsh.

"Jenna, what do you want, really? I try to cheer you up and buy you a gift. But you keep acting cold. Seriously, what are you even mad about?" he snapped.

I finished the last bite of my pasta calmly, wiped my mouth, and said honestly, "I'm not mad."

But Gordon let out a mocking laugh, convinced I was throwing a tantrum.