Chapter 4

Grace caught him with quick hands, then glanced down at the label on the bubble tea in his grip.

Her head snapped up, her eyes full of fury.

“Daryl's allergic to almonds! Why did you give him the one with almonds in it?!”

I opened my mouth to say he'd picked that cup himself.

Before I could get a word out, Grace had already bent down, pulled Daryl up against her, and rushed out of the restaurant without a backward glance.

I looked at the plate and the bubble tea in front of me, and something like grief came over me.

When a person doesn't love you, even your breathing is wrong.

The next second, my stomach seized with a violent pain.

Then my whole body slid off the chair and hit the floor hard.

Before I blacked out, I saw a restaurant staffer rush over to me.

“Sir, are you all right?”

When I woke again, I was already lying in a hospital bed.

The air was thick with the smell of disinfectant.

The doctor flipped through my chart, his tone stern.

“You just came through major surgery. Your body is at its weakest right now. How could you let yourself get this worn out?”

I bit my lip and said nothing.

The doctor sighed.

“You have to rest properly. No matter what, your health comes first.”

Just then a few young nurses passed by the door.

“Oh my, did you see that gorgeous woman just now? With that guy who had the allergic reaction.”

“First thing out of her mouth was the best VIP room. Money's no object.”

“That guy's really got it good.”

I lowered my eyes.

All these years Grace and I were together, I covered the bulk of things financially.

Her salary at the institute was actually very high, but she'd hardly spent a cent on me.

Every time she said, “We should save the money for later,” I believed her.

Thinking about it now, it wasn't that she was frugal. It was just that I wasn't worth it.

For the next two days, I stayed in the hospital.

Daryl's feed never stopped.

Grace took him shopping at the mall and bought him a pile of gifts.

The two of them saw the latest movie release, and he posted the ticket stub with the caption, “Second viewing with my girl, still so moved.”

I read through them one by one and set the phone down beside my pillow.

It felt like it didn't hurt so much anymore.

The day I was discharged, I took a cab home to pack my things.

The moment I walked in, I saw Grace sitting on the couch, her face grave.

Daryl sat beside her, his eyes red.

When she saw me, her expression turned ugly.

“Daryl's account on the platform is getting swarmed with hate. He says you're in his visitor list.”

I frowned.

“What do you mean?”

There was a trace of irritation in her voice.

“Someone saw his account and put up a post digging out all our info, laid out the whole timeline, said he was the guy on the side.”

“And his account got flooded.”

She paused a few seconds, her gaze landing on me.

“You shouldn't have done this.”

“There's nothing between me and Daryl.”

I looked at her, my voice as calm as dead water.

“You think I did it?”

“So what do you want now?”

Grace thought for a moment.

“Daryl has a lot of followers now, and quite a few sponsorship deals lined up.”

“I know there's nothing between me and Daryl, but……Graham, why don't you register an account and post a statement, clear it up, say Daryl isn't the third party.”

Something in my head snapped clean through.

I was so angry I laughed.

“He's not the third party. So what you're saying is you want me to admit I'm the third party?”

Cold sweat started breaking over me in waves, but I could no longer tell if it was the pain or the cold.

Daryl shot to his feet.

“Forget it, forget it, I'll post an explanation myself. Even if they tear me apart, I'll take it.”

Grace's face changed.

“Don't talk nonsense.”

Daryl bolted out, face white, and Grace went straight after him.

The moment the door slammed, the apartment fell quiet.

Ten minutes later, an account under my name posted:

“I really was the third party. Daryl Henson and Grace Gilbert are the ones in a normal relationship.”

My phone blew up instantly.

Old coworkers and friends called one after another asking what was going on.

Countless unknown numbers rang through, and message after message came pouring in.

“People who steal someone's partner are the ones I despise most in this life! Man or woman! I hope you die a miserable death!”

“Have you no shame? A happy little couple, and you shove yourself in the middle. For what?”

“And faking a timeline post? Lucky we've got eyes and know Daryl would never lie.”

I read through them one by one, and all at once I felt so tired.

I didn't reply to anyone. I only called my best friend and told him a few things in short.

After I hung up, I switched off the phone and dragged out the suitcase I'd packed long ago.

I looked around the apartment where I'd lived for five years.

I chose the couch. I chose the curtains. I bought the wall clock.

The cups on the table were a matching pair, but hers had shattered ages ago, and she'd never bought a new one.

I closed the door, didn't look back, and went straight to the airport.

A week later.

Grace came back with Daryl from a trip to the beach.

She pushed the door open and called out from habit.

“Graham!”

The apartment was empty.

There was a note on the coffee table.

She picked it up. On it was a single line.

“These five years, I might as well have thrown them to the dogs.”