Chapter 3

Sheila's POV

I used to hate Mina's pretentiousness, but at that moment, I couldn't be bothered with her. I looked straight at the trash bag in Henry's hand.

"What's in that?" I questioned him.

Henry froze at my question, instinctively trying to hide the bag. "N-nothing. I-It's just garbage…"

I didn't believe him and was about to question him again when Mina grabbed the trash bag and proudly emptied its contents in front of me.

She said smugly, "Since Sheila wants to know what's inside, she can see for herself. It's not a big deal."

Well, it wasn't a big deal to her.

There were several torn-up photos of Henry and me, capturing the sweetest moments from our eight-year relationship.

There were also broken shards of my favorite coffee cup. It was a gift from Henry for my 25th birthday, and I treasured it dearly. But that wasn't all. I also saw my cushions and vases in the trash bag.

Everything that symbolized our eight-year relationship now lay shattered on the floor—and apparently, they had all become nothing more than "garbage" to him. And that included the tamales Mom had made.

I stared in disbelief at the familiar packaging and the scattered tamales on the floor. "You also threw away my mom's tamales?"

Henry's expression shifted, as if he had realized something. He looked at Mina and asked, "You threw these away?"

Mina nodded and said nonchalantly, "Sure did. Sheila, I'm not trying to be mean or anything, but I can't believe you put something so dirty in the fridge! Henry is a doctor and a germaphobe. Don't make things hard for him."

My eyes welled up with tears as I looked at Henry. I asked, "Is that also what you think?"

He froze. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but ultimately remained silent.

I laughed at his reaction. I laughed so hard that tears streamed down my face.

I crouched down and picked up the tamales Mom had packed. I cleaned them off and put them back in the insulated bag. My hands trembled as I did so, yet my breathing remained so steady that even I was surprised at my fortitude.

I started, "Henry, we've been together for eight years. You mentioned you wanted tamales, so my mom made them and took the train overnight to bring them to you.

"You promised you'd pick her up, but you stood her up at the last minute. She waited for you alone at the station for four hours. In the end, she had to take a cab and got into a car accident. She had multiple fractures and almost lost her life.

"But when she woke up, the first thing she said was she didn't blame you. She even asked if the tamales were ruined and if you had eaten any. You were all she cared about.

"But what did you do? How dare you treat her like this?"

I was Mom's only child, so she always treated Henry like her own. Henry didn't eat spicy food, so she never made spicy food if he was around, even when she loved it.

Henry disliked hot and humid weather. So, even when she missed me during the spring or summer, she had never tried to persuade me to visit her.

She always said that she was fine and happy as long as Henry and I were doing well. She had suffered so much for Henry's sake, yet he treated her kindness like dirt.

Unable to stand the sight of him any longer, I picked up the insulated bag and left. Even as the elevator doors closed, I could still feel Henry's panicked gaze on me.

But it was too late now.

…

Back at the hospital, I sent my resignation letter to the HR department. I also asked the doctor when Mom would be stable enough to be transferred to another hospital.

After the doctor finished examining Mom, he said, "She's recovering very well. If there are no issues, she can leave after another week of observation."

A week.

I did the math. That would give me just enough time to complete my resignation paperwork.

After thanking the doctor, I noticed that Henry had sent me several messages, asking me where I was and whether I was still angry.

I didn't reply.

He texted me again. "I've already warned Mina about what happened. She won't do it again."

Still, I didn't bother replying.

He finally got angry and sent a harsh voice message. "Sheila, what the hell do you want? I've already apologized, so why won't you let it go?"

He called that an apology?

I leaned back in the cold chair, suddenly recalling the day of the earthquake eight years ago.

Henry was a volunteer doctor, and he had rescued me from the rubble. Back then, he was so gentle as he said, "Don't be afraid. I'm right here."