01
When Leon returned home in a cheerful mood, I was pouring untouched food into the trash bin.
Yesterday was our wedding anniversary.
He had told me just the two of us celebrating would be boring and suggested inviting his friends over.
I had taken a day off from work to prepare–shopping for groceries, cleaning the house, setting up the living room, and cooking.
But I waited all night, and no one came, not even my husband.
Only through social media did I discover he had instead gone to celebrate Xenia’s birthday–which had already been celebrated just a month ago.
In the photo, Xenia had cream on her nose, and her cheek was pinched by someone who was wearing a wedding ring identical to mine.
The caption read: “Someone insists on celebrating my birthday on the 18th of every month. It’s wonderful to be adored!”
“You made the steak?”
Leon glanced at the steak I had discarded in the trash bin and sighed,
“If you are not good at cooking, don’t waste food.”
Previously, I would have confronted him for abandoning me to celebrate with Xenia.
Now, I didn’t care anymore.
I had to clean up and discard the remnants of last night’s preparations.
Leon unexpectedly stopped me as I was cleaning up, pointing to a takeout box.
“Nora, I brought you a cake.”
“Okay.”
I appreciated the gesture, as Leon always tried to mollify me with treats whenever I was upset, assuming that food would smooth things over.
Glancing at the cake, I had never seen a birthday cake packaged in a takeout box before.
Clearly, it was leftovers from Xenia last night.
“Have some, babe. I’ll go take a shower first.”
Watching him happily head for the bathroom, I continued cleaning up the trash.
As I picked up the scissors to cut the flowers on the table, his phone lit up.
He always set it to silent mode when he came home.
Without meaning to, I saw a message from Xenia on the screen:
“Leon, you were so naughty last night, my waist still hurts~”
1 knew you were always trying to peek at my phone, Nora Wilson!”
Leon snatched the phone from me with his temper flaring.
The scissors slipped and cut my palm. Blood flowed immediately.
Leon looked at me impatiently as if I was causing trouble again.
“Stupid,” he muttered reluctantly. “Come on, let’s go to the hospital.”
I didn’t refuse. The wound was quite deep and painful.
As we drove, I noticed our car, which we had chosen together, now bore traces of Xenia. Two small dolls, a man and a woman kissing, sat on the dashboard, bearing the engraved names of Leon and Xenia.
His eyes flickered with a hint of embarrassment.
“Xenia thought my car was too bare and gave me those dolls randomly.”
I pressed gauze against my palm, staying calm, “Hmm, it’s fine.”
When I first bought the car, I bought a small doll to stick on the passenger side’s dashboard, but he just threw it away.
He said those things were all flashy and impractical, and would also obstruct the driver’s view.
Seeing that I was not upset, Leon looked at me strangely.
“Aren’t you angry?”
Why would I be? I no longer cared about him, so why let these things affec
me?
I stared ahead. “I need to make up for the missing work today. Let’s hurry to
Leon sped up as he noticed the blood seeping through the gauze on my hand.
hospital.
Just before the hospital, his phone rang and he glanced nervously at me, but seeing my calm demeanor, he answered.
“Baby, my back hurts so badly I can’t get up. It must be from last night. You need to come and help me.”
He didn’t put it on speakerphone, but I still heard her voice.
Looked out the window as if I hadd’t heard anything.
12:42 PM
O
0
Leon hung up and immediately floored the accelerator, turning right toward Xenia’s place.
Passing a pharmacy, he suddenly stopped, ran in, and emerged with a tube of massage cream. He then drove straight to her apartment.
When the car stopped, Leon hurriedly got out and told me, “I’ll get a document and will be back in five minutes.”
After he locked the car, time blurred as dizziness and pain overtook me, and my bandage was soon soaked with blood.
Eventually, passersby found me unconscious, broke the car window, called an ambulance, and took me to the hospital.
In the evening, Leon finally returned home.
I was sitting quietly, sipping porridge.
“Where’s my dinner?” he asked.
He knew about my injury but still told me he’d be home for dinner. Yet, I had only ordered for myself.
My face pale, I continued eating, “I didn’t check my phone.”
He noticed the cake on the table, untouched, and asked, “You didn’t have the cake?”
Too weary to even lift my eyelids, I muttered, “Maybe it went bad after sitting out.”
Leon seemed to remember something and handed me a gift bag.
“Here’s a new lipstick. Don’t go to work looking too plain.”
After finishing the last sip of porridge, my lips drained of blood and had lost their color.
“You can give it to someone else; I’m allergic to lipstick.”
When I first got together with Leon, he once gave me a lipstick, but I told him I was allergic.
He had seemed embarrassed then, thinking I wore lipstick because my lips were rosy.
It seemed he just remembered that.
I set down the bowl, took my phone, and sat on the couch, watching funny videos, and laughing.
Noticing the bandaged hand, Leon finally remembered to check on my wound. He reached out, but I instinctively recoiled, accidentally knocking the lipstick to the floor.
His expression turned cold, “Nora, you just had to wait a little longer in the car, is that such a big deal? I didn’t even fuss that you broke the window.”
I remained indifferent. “How much to fix that? I’ll pay.”
Leon, unable to contain his sarcasm, retorted, “With the little you earn, what can that do? Would you be as open–minded as Xenia? She’s much younger but far more mature.”
Both Leon and I are thirty this year, while Xenia has just graduated from college. She is eight years younger than us.
In every argument, Leon harped on about age.
I used to fight back.
But this time, I remained calm, nodding. “Yes, you’re right.”
Glancing at the time and realizing it was almost time to meet my friend, I grabbed my bag and left.
Leon, thinking I was making another dramatic exit, his expression soured, “Nora, what now?”
He actually chased after me, a change from his usual dismissive sneer, and retreated to his phone.
1 casually replied, “Just going home to get something.”
Leon opened his mouth but ended up saying nothing.
I was actually consulting with my friend about divorce, my phone beeped–it was Leon, asking where I was.
I didn’t respond. My friend tentatively asked, “Nora, he never used to call when you went out before. Do you think he knows you’re considering divorce and regrets it?”
Everyone knew how much I loved Leon.
Calmly, I asked, “If your ex–husband regretted it, would you go back?”
She resolutely shook her head, no longer pressing the issue, and we discussed the divorce until late.
I returned home in the early hours to find Leon lounging on the couch. The TV was playing his favorite basketball game, but he was glued to his phone
Seeing me, he didn’t even look up. I ignored him and headed straight for the shower.
After drying off and turning off the lights, I got into bed. Leon came in and without a word, hugged me from behind and began fondling me.
I caught his hand and pushed it away forcefully.
Annoyed, he slapped the light back on “Didn’t you say you wanted a baby?”
In the past, whenever I brought up the topic of having a child, he would be impatient. Today, when he brought it up, I dampened his enthusiasm. Lying on my side, I replied, “I’m tired. I have to work tomorrow”
These were words that he often said to me before.
“Nora, you’re the one saying no this time, so please don’t blame me later!”
He left the bedroom, slamming the door loudly.
For many days after that, Leon slept in the guest room.
This was his way of manipulating me. Whenever he slept separately, I would have sleepless nights, and then the next day, I would seek reconciliation with him.
He didn’t expect that this time I did not react at all and slept surprisingly well.
Instead, it was he who tossed and turned, frequently glancing towards the master bedroom whenever he went to the bathroom.
For half a month, I stayed quiet and composed.
One day, when we both had a day off, Leon saw me in the room and made an olive branch offer.
“I’m going to buy breakfast, what would you like? How about some pastries?”
I nodded, “Sure.”
Relieved by my response, he left–and didn’t return.
That afternoon, I saw some wedding photos posted by Mark in our alumni group chat.
In all the pictures of Leon, Xenia was clinging to his arm, both of them smiling happily.
