Chapter 2

"It's seven. Still not off shift?"

His checking-in text arrived, right on cue.

Ethan always kept a tight leash on me. He didn't have a shred of the "generosity" he bragged about in front of his friends.

My fingers were stiff as I typed back: "Get dinner yourself. I'm not coming home tonight."

Just as I was about to turn off my phone, it rang loudly.

I stared at the screen, hesitating to pick up.

I didn't know how to face Ethan.

Part of me wanted to storm inside like a madwoman, scream at him, and slap him for humiliating me like that.

But another part of me was terrified to face the truth.

He knew exactly what my job was when we were dating. Why was it suddenly unacceptable after we got married?

After fifty seconds, the ringing stopped.

An apologetic text followed immediately.

"Babe, you know I can't live without you. I'm just insecure. I get jealous whenever you look at another man."

"Babe, you're so beautiful, and I'm always worried I'll lose you. Please don't be mad at me, okay?"

"I bought your favorite strawberry cake."

"If you love your job, I promise I won't complain about it ever again."

We had history. We had real feelings.

Maybe he just had a big mouth and liked to brag in front of his friends.

Maybe he didn't mean any harm.

Ethan was usually so good to me. Since we got married, I had never touched a single chore.

When his mother and I couldn't get along, he packed her bags and sent her back to her hometown without hesitation.

The sweet smell of roasted chestnuts drifted over with the winter wind.

The street vendor smiled warmly at me. "Off work, Dr. Claire? Ethan told me you love these and asked me to save some for you. You two have been married for almost ten years, right? Your relationship is so beautiful."

I forced a smile and took the warm paper bag.

The hot chestnuts warmed my freezing hands.

A neighbor from upstairs chimed in, "We're all so jealous of you, Claire. My husband won't even lift a finger to help around the house. You're so blessed."

"They say men change when they get rich, but look at Ethan. His business has grown so much, yet he still adores you. He comes straight home after work every day."

...

I loved roasted chestnuts but hated peeling them. Ethan had always peeled them for me, one by one, feeding them to me patiently.

Every marriage had its bumps. The most important thing was forgiveness, right?

I carried the bag of chestnuts and walked back upstairs.

The sweet aroma of home-cooked food filled the air.

Ethan bustled around, serving me rice and peeling shrimp for me.

The questions I wanted to ask hovered at the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them down.

"Did you order takeout today? The taste is a bit different."

Actually, I couldn't really tell.

I just felt that it was impossible for Ethan to clean up a messy drinking table, sweep the house, and cook a three-course meal in such a short time.

Ethan casually ate a piece of broccoli. "Too much salt."

"It's snowing heavily outside. Even if I wanted takeout, I wouldn't make the delivery guy suffer in this weather."

After dinner, Ethan placed the peeled chestnuts, sliced fruit, and the strawberry cake neatly in front of me.

"Eat up, babe. I'm going downstairs to take out the trash."

Ethan had a habit of throwing out all the trash right after dinner.

"It's freezing outside. The trash won't smell overnight. Just do it tomorrow."

He smiled, kissing my forehead. "It's fine. I'll be right back."

"Hey, wait."

It was snowing heavily, and Ethan had rushed out without his coat, scarf, or gloves.

I grabbed his winter gear from the rack and ran out after him.

But the scene in the hallway froze me in my tracks.

Ethan's tall frame was wrapped around a petite woman. He was holding her tightly, kissing her passionately.

At the sound of my footsteps, they broke apart instantly.

A string of saliva snapped between their lips in the cold air.

I took a step back in shock. My stomach churned, and I had to lean against the doorframe to keep from vomiting.

Ethan rushed over, rubbing my back with mock concern. "Claire! What's wrong? Did you eat something bad?"

I pushed his hands away with pure disgust.

"Don't touch me. You make me sick."

Ethan grabbed my wrist, his grip tightening. "I make you sick? Look at your own hands, Claire. Compared to what you do at work, I'm the faithful one here."

Faithful? Sure, if cheating with only one person counted as faithful.

"Claire, please don't say that," the woman chimed in, her voice dripping with innocence. "Ethan is so good to you. Every day, he begs me to cook the dishes you like."

"Shut up!" I snapped.

I stared at Ethan. "Since when did you get a sister? The food I've been eating... was made by her?"