Chapter 2

Joseph's POV

Just like that, Cheryl and I fell into a silent standoff. She didn't come home, and I stopped asking where she was.

By the third morning, her assistant, Millie Fletcher, unexpectedly sent me a message.

"Mr. Marsh, Ms. Sharpley has been busy these past few days. She just flew back from Somaland today."

I replied, "You don't have to send me updates of her from now on."

Scrolling up through the chat history, I realized almost every message was from me asking about Cheryl. I had contacted Millie far more times than I had contacted my own wife.

Not long after, Millie wrote back.

"Did you and Ms. Sharpley fight?"

I didn't answer, but she kept typing.

"She really does care about you. Otherwise, given her personality, she never would've pursued you so relentlessly."

My eyelids twitched. Indeed, Cheryl was the one who insisted on marrying me.

She was famous as an untouchable femme fatale, yet back then, she would always take the initiative to spend time with me. She would always stare at me and say how handsome I was.

Somewhere along the way, things stopped turning out the way either of us had hoped.

Another message from Millie came.

"She remembers it's your birthday today, so she specially picked out a gift for you. It's the watch you've wanted for a long time."

She sent me a photo, and she was right. It was the very watch I had been talking about for a few months. I never expected Cheryl to remember.

Frankly, my heart started wavering. I sighed helplessly, turned toward the kitchen, and started cooking all her favorite dishes.

By the time Cheryl came home, it was already dark outside. She untied her hair and headed straight for the study. I called out to stop her, and she finally turned around, albeit with a frown.

"What?" she blurted out as coldly as ever.

My breathing grew uneven as my fingers dug at the apron around my waist. "Do you know what day it is today?"

Her frown deepened. "What?"

Bitterness rose in my chest. My voice was hoarse as I reminded her, "My birthday."

Cheryl finally nodded, casually smoothing down her sleeves. "Is it today? I forgot."

That was the end of it.

My throat tightened. It felt as though a soaking wet blanket had been thrown over me, heavy, damp, and suffocating.

She glanced at me before speaking matter-of-factly. "I'll make it up to you next month. It's not like birthdays are something you absolutely have to celebrate. There's no need to make a fuss."

The next second, I saw a post Henry shared an hour ago. In the photo was the very watch I had wanted for months. Alongside it were gifts I couldn't even bring myself to identify.

His caption read, "Thanks, wifey! (She's just my boss)."

Cheryl replied beneath it, "Cut it out. You deserve it."

A bitter smile pulled at my lips. I remembered asking her to like my posts or leave me a comment once in a while, but she always refused. She said it was childish and inappropriate.

I never stood it. Why was this supposed to be, then?

My hand, still holding the phone, began trembling uncontrollably. "So, you do know how to interact with someone's post. Did you have fun giving him those gifts?"

Cheryl frowned. She reached out and snatched my phone away, then lowered her head to do something on my phone.

"If it bothers you that much, you can just block his posts. The gifts were just a gesture of appreciation for an employee to motivate him to work harder. He's been working hard, so he's earned it.

"Unlike you. You just stay at home all day doing nothing."

I couldn't believe what I just heard. An invisible lightning had struck me in place.

Cheryl stayed up late year-round, ate at irregular hours, and was always complaining about stomach issues. She was the one who said she never felt well and only felt better when she had the delicious soup I made.

That was the only reason why I quit my job. I stayed home so I could take care of her full-time.

I had spent years as the teacher's favorite student, the one everyone expected to go far in life. I had even received an offer from a university abroad. I could've had a completely different future.

How the hell did things end up like this?

She was the one who claimed she loved me first. Why was I the only one trapped in this loveless marriage in the end?

Honestly, I couldn't quite keep my emotions under control. My breathing turned ragged, and my throat tightened until I couldn't force out a single word.

Without sparing me a glance, Cheryl looked at the dishes on the table. As always, she had a bone to pick.

"And another thing. How are you at home all day and still can't work on your cooking? Look at how bland they all look. It kills my appetite."

A mocking smile slowly spread across my face.

Right. She and Henry had gotten used to eating spicy food together. How could she possibly appreciate my healthy home-cooked meals?

Before I knew it, I heard the study door close behind her. Not a trace of hesitation was in her muscles.

I stood alone in the empty living room. Glancing at the table of dishes, I picked up every plate and dumped them all into the trash.