Chapter 2

I wasn't at all surprised to see Francesca at the Ludwig residence. Their families had been neighbors for years and got along fairly well.

Gloria Denver, Ian's mother, never even tried to hide how much she liked Francesca. She had always regretted not being able to make Francesca her daughter-in-law.

When Francesca's family migrated abroad, both families hugged and cried for the longest time.

Now that she was back in the country, everyone had gathered around, laughing and chatting happily. No one noticed me even when I walked in and made my way to the dining table.

The chatter only stopped abruptly when the sound of me pulling the chair screeched. Gloria's eyes flashed with irritation at my interruption.

A guilty look crossed Ian's face as he got up to help me get settled in my seat. He then explained, "Francesca said she hasn't had our home-cooked meal in a while, that's why…"

Francesca bolted up before he could finish speaking. Her voice was tinged with nervousness as she said, "I'm sorry, Evelyn. It's my fault for craving their home-cooked meal. If you're upset, just blame it on me. Don't blame Ian or Gloria."

Before I could react, Gloria gently spoke to her goddaughter, Francesca. "What are you talking about? This is your home—who'd dare to blame you?"

Ian's hand tightened slightly over mine. Finding it ironic, I softly said, "Gloria's right—it's just a meal, after all."

It was just a meal. This wasn't the first time it had happened, anyway.

Francesca threw a party the night before she left the country. I was burning with a fever at home, barely conscious.

Ian answered with a drunken slur when I called. Upon hearing my request for him to take me to the hospital, he snapped, "I'm just out for dinner! Did you really have to call me repeatedly?"

On our fifth wedding anniversary, he delayed telling me his flight details. It wasn't until dinner had gone cold and the restaurant was closing that he finally picked up the video call.

He said, "Francesca twisted her ankle, so I'm staying here to take care of her. Don't bother waiting for me. It's just dinner—it doesn't matter even if we have it another time."

I made a huge fuss on those two occasions, but he managed to calm me down.

Perhaps I should've left him back then.

Ian smiled when he saw I wasn't upset. "I knew Eve wouldn't get upset over something so trivial when she's so gentle and understanding. You shouldn't blame yourself, Francesca."

Surprise crossed Francesca's gaze, yet she continued to bite down on her lip. "Evelyn might forgive me because she's kind, but I really was in the wrong—so let me make it up with three shots!"

Ian stopped her just as she was about to down her alcohol. "How can you drink like that when you're allergic to alcohol? Besides, it's not a big deal. So what if we deliberately didn't wait for her?"

Then, feeling that he had gone overboard with his words, he turned around and softly comforted me, "I only said that because Francesca is allergic to alcohol, Eve. Please don't take it to heart."

"Of course I won't," I replied. There was no point arguing with a man I was about to divorce anyway.

Seemingly satisfied with how I was handling things, Ian continued to ease the tension. "You love fish, so I asked Anna to make you some today."

Anna Wonstein brought the dish to the table right on cue.

Francesca started gagging at an inopportune time. "Take it away, Ian. My stomach's been off lately. I can't handle the smell of fish."

She was frowning with a hand covering her mouth, looking extremely uncomfortable.

Concern flashed across Ian's gaze. He picked up the dish and handed it over to Anna beside him. "Just toss it away."

When he came back to his senses, only then did he notice my hands, still holding my cutlery, frozen in midair. He parted his lips to say something.

Under his gaze, I gently set my cutlery down on the table. "I just remembered I have something else to take care of. I'll be taking my leave now."

Ian's gaze darkened as he grabbed my wrist. "What are you throwing a tantrum for now, Evelyn?"

I brushed his hand off and leaned in close to his ear. "There are lilies in the living room today. I'm a bit allergic—I can't stay any longer."

Something unreadable flickered in Ian's eyes as he glanced over to the beautifully wrapped lilies. He said nothing to stop me from leaving eventually.

Those flowers were Francesca's gift for Gloria. Gloria was fond of them naturally—she'd cherish anything that came from Francesca.

Everyone was in a good mood. There was no need to ruin that over me.

I knew that very well.

I started packing up once I got home. Ian wouldn't be back tonight with Francesca around.

In a way, I should be thanking her—she gave me all the time I needed to pack up. After all, it took me eight years to fill this home.