Chapter 4

The moment I finished speaking, Harriet's voice came from somewhere in the distance. "Jim, Joshua wants you to hurry back."

Jim immediately turned around, his feet instinctively carrying him toward Harriet. After taking a few steps, he seemed to remember that I was still there. He froze for a second, then turned back and tried to make up for it. "Cecilia, what did you just say?"

Before I could answer, he gave a careless little laugh. "Whatever it was, you can decide. You're going to be the lady of the house from now on anyway."

As he spoke, he pinched my cheek, and his words came strangely fast.

"I know you don't like crowded places, so why don't you go home and wait for me? Just let me know when you get there so I know you're safe. I won't walk you home, okay?"

His tone sounded like he was asking for my opinion, but there was no intention of discussing it with me. The moment he finished speaking, he turned and walked away without a second thought.

I watched his back disappear, my heart slowly growing colder as I finally understood the truth. Those sweet, thoughtful words had never been meant for me. He had only wanted to get them out of the way as quickly as possible so that he could hurry back to Harriet.

He did not care how I felt, what I had just said, or even whether I made it home safely.

To him, it was nothing more than a task to check off. It was just a few words he had to say because that was what a boyfriend was supposed to do. Once he had said them, he could hurry back to Harriet.

When I actually texted him to let him know I had made it home safely, he never replied. After all, when Jim was with Harriet, he never looked at his phone.

Thankfully, I had no intention of humiliating myself by chasing after him. I had said everything I needed to say. Whatever happened next had nothing to do with Jim anymore.

…

Neither of them came home that night. They did not even send me a message. Just as I expected, Jim did not care whether I had made it home safely.

As for where the two of them had gone, I did not care anymore either. I spent the entire next day sorting through my belongings.

Anything I did not need immediately, I packed up and shipped away. It was only then that I realized just how little of this house actually belonged to me.

When we first rented the place, Jim had immediately given the biggest bedroom to Harriet. She had a huge four-door wardrobe and her own private vanity.

Meanwhile, the closet in the room Jim and I shared was small to begin with, and most of the space was taken up by his formal clothes, leaving my neatly folded clothes crammed into one tiny corner. My few cheap, no-name makeup products were piled on the nightstand, and there was not even a mirror.

I had never thought much about it before. I simply accepted it as the way things were. Sometimes, I would even marvel at how much Harriet could afford to buy.

Whenever I mentioned it, Jim would always grumble, "She just loves buying useless junk. One of these days, I'm going to throw all of it out."

Only now did I realize the truth.

He might have complained about Harriet's shopping habits, but whenever she wanted something, he could buy a hundred of the exact same thing for her without hesitation. That kind of favoritism was something I had never experienced.

My eyes suddenly filled with tears. I quickly lifted my head and blinked them away.

One thing was clearer to me than ever before—if I could not have something, then I did not want it anymore.

After checking the house one last time to make sure I had not left anything behind, I scheduled a pickup. The moment the delivery driver took my things away, my phone rang.

"Is this Ms. Carter? I'm Lucy, a real estate agent with Brighton & Co. You previously asked me to help you find a suitable interior designer, and I…"

I listened to her enthusiastic explanation, but my mind suddenly went blank. So much had happened lately that I had completely forgotten the new home I had just bought for our wedding was still waiting to be renovated.

The house belonged to Jim and me. However, I had paid for most of it. Back then, I was naive enough to think that since we were getting married soon, it did not matter if I contributed a little more.

It was the first time I had ever spent that much money on anything, yet I had not felt the slightest bit of pain. Whenever I imagined the two of us moving in together after our wedding, my heart had been filled with nothing but excitement.

Now, the more I remembered how excited I had been when I bought that house with my own hands, the colder my heart felt.

The wedding was canceled. There was no reason for me to keep the house either.

"I'm sorry, but I don't need the interior designer anymore. As for the house… Please help me sell it. The sooner, the better."

The endless stream of words on the other end suddenly stopped. I thought I had put her in a difficult position. Instead, after a moment of hesitation, she asked, "Ms. Carter, is that what the homeowner wants as well?"

I froze.

What did she mean? Was I not the homeowner?

At the time, I had even refused to put Jim's name on the deed because I had wanted to treat the house as my contribution to the marriage.

I quickly asked what she meant.

A few seconds of keyboard tapping came through the phone, then she spoke again.

"Ms. Carter, the registered owner of this property was changed to Harriet Smith last month. If you want to sell the house, we'll need to get the homeowner's consent."