Chapter 7 Useless Junk

I didn’t say a word.

Cary kept a calm face, but a visible hint of discomfort tightened the skin around his eyes.

His phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. It went from calls to video chats and finally to a barrage of texts, one after another, bold and relentless on the screen.

‘Aren’t you going to answer that?’ I said.

Cary finally reached for the phone, turned it off without checking the screen, and dropped it back onto the nightstand.

He touched my forehead. ‘Still a bit warm. Go back to sleep. I’ll stay here with you.’

I rolled over and shut my eyes.

An hour later, my breathing had evened out.

Cary picked up the phone again, switched it on, and stepped out onto the balcony. I heard his voice, low and hushed. ‘You okay? Don’t be scared, I’ll be there soon…’

Then he came back inside, grabbed a jacket, and left.

I opened my eyes the second the door clicked shut.

I had never actually fallen asleep.

I wasn’t even sure what I was clinging to anymore. Once a man’s heart changes, it’s like a fruit with a rotten core. It only gets worse from there.

At half four in the morning, Cary came back.

Seeing me still asleep, he let out a breath of relief. He felt my forehead; it was no longer feverish.

He headed into the bathroom.

A while later, he came out in a robe, climbed into bed, and wrapped his arm around my waist from behind.

Once he was asleep, I gently moved his hand off me and sat up. My gaze fell on him. Those features still looked so perfect. The lips, the defined jawline… and then my eyes fixed on the line of faint bite marks along his collarbone.

It felt like someone had stabbed me right in the chest.

My eyes darkened with disgust at the body that had been defiled by the touch of another woman.

In that moment, a crazy thought flashed through my mind. Maybe if I pressed a pillow over his face, it would all be over.

***

Cary found me in the kitchen.

I had an apron on and was setting out breakfast for two.

‘Come and eat,’ I said to him.

‘Your fever just broke. You should’ve stayed in bed and rested.’ Cary walked over and tried to check my forehead, but I subtly leaned away.

‘It’s just a cold. Nothing serious.’ I undid the apron and sat down at the dining table.

Cary looked down at his empty hand, a bit thrown off.

‘I need to talk to you about something,’ I said.

‘What is it?’ he asked, taking a sip of juice.

‘I want to quit my job.’ My words caught Cary off guard. Before he could ask why, I smiled and explained, ‘I’ve spent the past few years buried in work. I’m worn out. I figured it’s time I try living the pampered life of a trophy wife.’

Cary narrowed his eyes at me, trying to figure out if I was being serious. ‘You’re not messing with me, are you?’

‘Do I look like I’m joking? What, you think I’m some kind of masochist who doesn’t know how to enjoy life?’ I shot back.

He considered it for a beat, then nodded. ‘Alright, you staying home is fine. It’s time for us to try for a baby anyway.’

I just smiled instead of answering.

Yeah, right. You want me to stay trapped at home as your baby-making machine while you sneak off with your precious V each night? Dream on.

‘Once I file my resignation, I’m going around Europe with Portia. It’s been ages since I’ve taken a trip.’

‘Won’t she be too busy with work to travel with you?’

‘Super busy. But I’m sure she’ll make time for me,’ I replied sweetly.

Cary was quiet for a moment, as if something had clicked in his head. ‘A trip could be nice. I’ll make the arrangements for you. You don’t need to worry about a thing. Just relax and enjoy.’

I kept that easy smile on my face and said nothing.

Yeah, you handle the booking, and I’ll handle never coming back.

With the bruise on my forehead still glaringly obvious, I took a few extra days of leave. I didn’t want to go into the office looking all pitiful, especially right when I was quitting.

With more free time, I started slowly packing up. Clothes, shoes, bags, all the little personal things. Each day, I brought a bit more to my new place.

Today a box, tomorrow another. The once-full wardrobes were clearly thinning out. Anyone paying attention would have noticed.

But Cary was completely clueless.

I even burned our wedding photos right in the backyard, and the guy didn’t look up once. He was too busy chuckling at whatever was on his phone and texting back like he was having the time of his life.

If he’d bothered to glance up for even one second…

I stood there, watching him through the glass.

Only when the lighter’s flame began to sting my fingers did I finally let go.

The fire caught quickly, licking up the gasoline-doused photos. The image of our smiling faces, my joyful one and his eyes full of me, flickered in the flames. They twisted into something unrecognisable and then turned to dark ashes.

A sudden tightness in my chest made it hard to breathe. Watching the ashes disintegrate, my vision blurred with tears.

‘What are you burning?’ Cary finally realised something was up and came outside.

I tilted my head back, stuffing my emotions down hard.

‘Nothing important,’ I said calmly. I turned toward him, my eyes slightly red but my smile soft. ‘Just some useless junk.’