Chapter 3
When I woke up in the hospital, Julian was beside me, engrossed in paperwork.
“You’re awake?”
Julian looked at my weak state, a flicker of tenderness in his eyes, and his voice softened in a way I’d never heard before.
“What do you want to eat? I’ll go get it for you.”
“Tiramisu.”
The word slipped out instinctively.
Julian paused for a moment, then said, “Okay, I’ll go buy it for you right now.”
I shook my head.
“I want the one you make.”
That single sentence pulled us back three years.
Those were the days I was hospitalized after shielding Julian from that knife.
Julian was constantly by my side, tending to my needs.
He even learned to make tiramisu himself, just because I loved it.
Back then, he’d replay a single cooking tutorial video a hundred times, meticulously researching different ingredients and combinations.
He was a quick learner; within days, he’d mastered it.
The tiramisu he made was perfect, even better than anything from a bakery.
But ever since Melody appeared, he’d never made it for me again.
Julian hesitated, then finally agreed.
“Alright, I’ll go back and make it immediately. You wait here, okay?”
I forced a smile through the pain, replying, “Okay.”
For some reason, my smile seemed to freeze him, leaving him stunned for a long moment.
After he left, I finally stopped pretending.
The pain made me weep.
Especially during the dressing change.
My left hand was almost completely raw.
I had deliberately sent Julian away.
My heart had died completely for him; I no longer cared for his sympathy.
Wanting tiramisu was a lie; I just wanted to smash the one he made right in front of him.
But it was a chance I was destined not to have.
About thirty minutes after Julian left, I received a call.
It was Melody Hayes.
Over the phone, I heard the woman’s unbearable moans and the man’s heavy grunts.
I knew then that Julian wouldn’t be making me any tiramisu.
Julian pushed open the hospital room door, a flicker of guilt in his eyes.
But he quickly composed himself, his voice carefully neutral.
“Aubrey, I made this myself. Taste it, is it still the same?”
I knew perfectly well, but I took a bite.
I feigned a smile. “Mmm, it’s delicious.”
Julian’s voice still held a hint of post-intimacy raspiness.
“Good, glad you like it.”
Just then, my attending physician came in for rounds.
He asked if I wanted to take Torrusin.
I knew he was referring to the memory recovery drug.
They had recently developed a new medication to prevent memory loss.
We had discussed it on SnapChat.
I observed Julian; he showed no reaction.
If only he’d bothered to ask what medication I was taking, he would have known everything.
But he didn’t.
I decisively refused the doctor.
The doctor asked me one last time:
“Ms. Sinclair, are you sure? You only have five days until you completely lose…”
I gave him a look, and the doctor immediately fell silent.
Julian finally frowned, raising his eyes, and asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice:
“Lose what?”
I suddenly spoke up.
“Melody just Snapchatted me saying her stomach hurts, and she couldn’t reach you by phone.”
At my words, he immediately grabbed my hand, anxiously saying:
“What did you say?!”
“How could she not reach me?”
I couldn’t help but cry out in pain, and only then did he realize he was gripping my freshly operated-on left hand.
Blood soaked through the bandage, staining it crimson.
Julian gave me a apologetic look, a hint of hesitation in his eyes.
But in the end, he grabbed his documents and hurried out of the hospital room, rushing towards the mansion.
The next day, Julian came to visit me again.
This time, he brought another tiramisu.
I opened the box, about to scoop a spoonful, but he stopped me.
“You just had surgery, you can’t eat too much sweet stuff. You need to moderate.”
“You definitely won’t stick to it yourself.”
“Let me feed you.”
I was suddenly reminded of when we first got married.
I loved ice cream, and our fridge was always stocked with several tubs.
But whenever my period approached, Julian would eat all the ice cream in the fridge.
He’d only buy more after my period was over.
Because we had an agreement that I wouldn’t eat cold things during my period, but I never stuck to it.
As he said this, his expression was a little distant, as if he was thinking of something, and his eyes softened for a rare moment.
He scooped a spoonful and held it to my mouth.
But I didn’t open it.
“Are you upset with me?”
Seeing my silence, he wore an “I knew it” expression.
“I know you’ve been feeling suffocated lately.”
“But Melody is pregnant with our child, can’t you just make allowances for her?”
“Melody is only twenty-two, and you’re a thirty-year-old woman. Why are you always bickering with a young girl? Melody even sees you as a sister.”
“Anyway, you can’t have children, can you? Just let Melody give birth to my child. For my sake, Melody will let you be the child’s godmother.”
I scoffed.
“No thanks, I find that repulsive.”
Julian instantly became enraged, slamming the spoon onto me.
“You truly are stubborn!”
Just then, Melody Hayes pushed open the hospital room door and entered.
Seeing the scene before her, she immediately rushed forward and grabbed Julian.
Feigning anger, she said:
“Julian, what are you doing? Aubrey just had surgery!”
Julian frowned. “She’s an ungrateful wretch.”
“Forget her, Melody, why are you here? Didn’t I tell you to rest?”
Melody pouted, looking remorseful.
“Aubrey’s skin peeled off because of me. It’s only right that I come to take care of her.”
Julian’s face darkened, his eyes like ice.
“Nonsense! This is entirely her own fault!”
“Not to mention she didn’t take proper care of you, she almost caused you to miscarry! I haven’t even settled that score with her yet!”
“Now she’s using her surgery as an excuse to make you wait on her?”
With that, he pulled Melody away and left.
5
Melody Hayes sent me a few more explicit pictures.
I felt a surge of disgust.
My gaze inadvertently fell upon Julian’s left ring finger and I noticed the diamond ring wasn’t his original wedding band.
It was a matched set with the one Melody wore. A ring from a brand famed for its ‘one love, one life’ promise.
I closed my eyes and turned off my phone.
A short while later, another call came in.
Mr. Charles, the butler, said Julian wanted a simple wedding for Melody, and Julian had specifically asked me to be the chief planner, claiming I had experience.
The reason was Melody’s prenatal depression; she was constantly terrified Julian would abandon her, and he wanted to prove his love for her.
They were taking their wedding photos at the beach.