Chapter 2

The ties that had bound me for so many years suddenly felt as though they no longer existed.

I quickly replied.

[Of course. Give me four days.]

James’ birthday was in three days. I planned to leave once it was over.

Less than a second after I sent the message, my friend's excited reply popped up.

[Can't wait! We'll celebrate properly when you get here.]

…

After booking my flight, I looked up as Yvette pushed open the bedroom door. She wore the same gentle smile she always did.

"What's wrong with you today? Not only did you skip cooking for James, but you've been crying, too?"

I stared at her. If I had not overheard those words earlier, I might have believed that warm, caring expression.

"I'm sick. The family cook is here. Let her make dinner."

"James only likes your cooking," she said. "Stop being stubborn."

"I said, I'm sick."

Her expression froze for a second, as if she was not used to me speaking to her that way.

"Usually, you'd still cook for him even if you had a fever..."

She did not care about me at all. The only reason I had never noticed before was that I had spent years deceiving myself.

What kind of wife saw her sick husband and only cared about what her child was going to eat?

Perhaps my silence made her realize she had gone too far. She quickly added, "Anyway, Eric bought James some fried chicken. If you come out, the two of us can just eat something simple."

I gave a faint nod.

"Hmm."

That only seemed to confuse her more.

In the past, the moment I heard James was eating takeout, I would immediately ask about the ingredients.

Today, I asked nothing.

When I followed her into the living room, I found James holding a piece of fried chicken.

He was on a video call with Eric, chatting happily as laughter echoed through the room.

It was as if the hostile child from earlier had never existed.

I studied his features. The more I looked, the more his eyes resembled Eric's.

Yvette scooped James into her arms and greeted Eric on the screen with a gentle smile.

Meanwhile, I silently ate the food in front of me. It tasted like cardboard.

The three of them laughed and talked through the video call like a perfect family of three.

I was the outsider.

The family cook carried over a plate of meatloaf and placed it in front of me.

"Sir, Mrs. Scott specifically asked me to make this for you. She said it's your favorite. Mrs. Scott is so thoughtful."

My hand froze around my fork. I had never eaten beef, and Yvette knew that better than anyone. I had reminded her countless times over the years, yet she still ordered it whenever we went out to eat. I had always assumed she did it because she liked it. Looking back now, I realized I might have been wrong all along.

Eric's eyes lit up on the screen. "Oh, meatloaf! I love that."

Yvette immediately replied, "And you like it with extra spice, right?"

Eric smiled warmly. "That's right."

Then, he looked toward the camera. "Draven, you're not upset that James is eating fried chicken, are you? It's my fault. I was only thinking about what James likes."

Yvette's expression stiffened. She glanced at me before answering casually, "No. He's fine."

A trace of confusion entered Eric's voice. "Huh? Oh... Well, that's good..."

Before he could finish speaking, a series of loud crashes suddenly came from his side of the call.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

It sounded like something was being smashed. The video abruptly disconnected.

Yvette shot to her feet instantly, panic written all over her face. Only when she noticed me watching did she casually throw out an excuse. "Something came up at the office."

Even her lies were lazy. I did not need to guess where she was going.

She was going to find Eric.

James jumped up as well and grabbed Yvette's hand anxiously.

"Mom, take me with you. Take me!"

Without waiting for me to say a word, the two of them hurried out the door.

I stared at the empty dining table.

Suddenly, the whole thing felt ridiculous.

Eight years of marriage, and I had been kept in the dark like a fool.

I picked up my fork and put a piece of meat into my mouth.

A sharp burst of spice rushed straight up my nose, making my eyes water instantly.

Then, I remembered. Every time Yvette ordered food, she would choose salty, spicy dishes.