Chapter 2

Layla moved into a rented two-bedroom apartment.

It wasn't large, but it was warm. She'd thrown out everything from the mansion, taking only a few old clothes and a photograph of her mother.

Even though Hubert had given her fifty million, she didn't intend to touch it. The money scalded her hands. It was the price paid to buy out three years of her youth and her dignity. She planned to find a time to return it to Alvin Delgado's account, to settle the debt of kindness he'd shown her back then.

Now she only wanted to start over, find a job, and go back to living an ordinary person's life.

While she was tidying up, Layla came across a photograph.

It was from their first wedding anniversary, one of the rare times Hubert had come home early. Layla had cooked a whole table of dishes and lit candles.

That night, Hubert had a little to drink, and there was something hazy in the way he looked at her.

"Layla, are you tired?" he asked.

"Not tired." Layla smiled and ladled soup for him.

That night had been one of the few tender moments in their marriage. Layla had thought it was a turning point.

But now, thinking back, she remembered that Letitia had posted something online from abroad that day. The image was a lonely silhouette from behind, and the caption read: Missing the warmth and life back home.

So it turned out the loneliness in his eyes that day hadn't been for this home at all. It had been for the person on the other side of the ocean.

The real turning point had come a month ago.

That day was Layla's birthday. For once in a lifetime, Hubert had said he wanted to eat dinner at home.

Layla was overjoyed. She'd been busy since morning, buying groceries, prepping ingredients, simmering the fish soup he loved most.

At seven that evening, Hubert came home.

He was carrying a cake box. Layla had just reached out to take it when his phone rang.

The moment he answered, his face changed completely.

"What? The airport? Stay there, don't move!"

He hung up, set the cake down on the shoe cabinet by the entryway, and turned to leave.

"Hubert, dinner's ready…" Layla caught the sleeve of his jacket. On the back of her hand, the hot oil had already raised a blister.

Hubert turned, his eyes so sharp they frightened her. "Letitia's back. She had an asthma attack at the airport and doesn't have her medicine with her. A life is on the line. You still care about one meal?"

"But today is—"

"Enough!" Hubert flung off her hand, hard enough that Layla stumbled and hit the wall. "Layla, don't be so unreasonable. Eat by yourself."

The front door slammed shut.

Layla slid down to the floor and looked at the cake box he'd tossed aside so carelessly.

It was the flavor she disliked most.

Letitia loved that fancy cheesecake. Everyone in the Delgado family knew that.

So the cake hadn't been bought for her at all. He'd just grabbed it on the way, or bought it for Letitia and brought it home only because she hadn't arrived yet.

In that moment, Layla looked at the table full of dishes gone cold and finally understood something.

A melon forced from the vine is never sweet, and a heart you can't warm will freeze a person to death.

In the month after Letitia came home, Hubert seemed like a different man.

He posted Letitia's paintings online with the caption "The genius returns."

He was caught by paparazzi taking Letitia to an amusement park, wearing a bright smile Layla had never seen on his face. He even drove across half the city late at night just to buy Letitia the dumpling soup she was craving.

That gentleness, that thoughtfulness, that patience.

So it turned out he had all of it.

He just didn't give any of it to her.