Chapter 26

For the past fortnight, Sophia has been in a state of distress.

Two weeks ago, one night as she was already asleep at home, Anderson called, asking her to come downstairs, saying he had something urgent to discuss.

She thought Anderson missed her so much that he had come to her place in the middle of the night. Her head filled with romantic fantasies, but as soon as she got into Anderson's car, those illusions were shattered.

Anderson, smoking and with a grim expression, told her that Emily had discovered his affair and was demanding a divorce.

Sophia's heart raced, thinking it was her manipulative social media post that had led to this. Later, she learned that Emily had irrefutable evidence of her and Anderson together over the weekend, leaving no room for any excuse.

When Sophia checked her phone again, she found she could no longer see Emily's posts; she had been blocked. Their last "interaction" was Emily liking her post, which, in hindsight, felt like a slap in the face.

Now, every day at work, Sophia lived in fear, dreading the possibility of Emily showing up at the office to publicly shame her or, worse, physically attack her. Her greatest fear was that Emily would post the evidence online, subjecting her to public ridicule and harassment.

She couldn't share her fears with anyone, not even Anderson.

Anderson hadn't mentioned breaking up, only said they needed to keep their distance for a while to avoid suspicion and not leave any more evidence. He reiterated that she should "be good."

But as days passed, none of Sophia's worries materialized. She created a fake account to continue following Emily's profile. During this time, Emily posted seven or eight updates, all about cooking, and two product promotions. Her everyday photos still radiated tranquility, with no signs of any upheaval in her life.

Sophia couldn't fathom Emily's intentions and could only endure the torment of waiting.

Near noon, her colleagues began ordering lunch together in the group chat. Sophia had lost her appetite lately, feeling nauseous at the slightest hint of grease, so she planned to buy a simple salad from the downstairs convenience store.

Just then, she received a message from Cindy at the front desk, saying a courier had delivered something for her and asked her to come and pick it up.

Sophia was puzzled. She hadn't ordered anything. She asked Cindy what it was.

"It's a Chanel bag! Is it a surprise gift from your boyfriend?"

Seeing the reply, Sophia glanced towards Anderson's office. Could it be a gift from Anderson to make up for his recent coldness?

Excitedly, Sophia ran to the front desk and took the black paper bag amid Cindy's envious gaze. Inside was a heavy black box of the same brand.

Her colleagues, curious about the grand gift, asked if it was her birthday. Sophia shook her head, "No, my birthday is in March..."

"Is it your anniversary then?"

Afraid of revealing too much, Sophia evasively answered "Yes" while untying the white satin ribbon on the gift box.

Her colleagues guessed what might be inside as she lifted the lid. But a few seconds later, Sophia slammed the lid back down.

"Stop crowding around!" Sophia yelled, clutching the box as she ran out.

Her colleagues exchanged bewildered looks. One asked, "What's going on?"

Those nearby, equally stunned, finally said, "It didn't seem like a bag inside..."

"What then?"

"No idea."

Only Sophia knew what was inside.

She fled to the restroom, locked herself in a stall, and sat on the toilet lid before opening the box again.

On top was an apron, its design and pattern familiar. Sophia immediately recognized it as the one Emily hung in her kitchen, the one she had once provocatively worn to seduce Anderson.

The box was filled with items from Emily's house—used skincare products, toiletries, pillowcases, and at the bottom, a pair of slippers.

Underneath the slippers was a postcard-sized card with no signature, reading, "I don't want these anymore. Since you like using them so much, they're all yours."

Sophia, humiliated and enraged, shook with anger, tears streaming down her cheeks, her face burning, her mind buzzing. She wanted to throw the card in the trash but paused.

It wasn't an ordinary card; it was a photograph.

Meanwhile, Anderson was on the phone with his lawyer, his tone extremely impatient, "I won't divorce! Not a chance!"

"But they are very adamant..."

"Aren't I adamant too? No divorce!" Anderson pinched the bridge of his nose, "Talk to them. I can sign a guarantee or whatever, promising not to repeat my mistakes. And can you find out where my wife is staying now—"

Suddenly, the office door was violently pushed open, and Sophia stormed in.

Anderson, taken aback, didn't have time to speak before Sophia reached his desk and threw something in his face.

"Ow!"

Anderson flinched as it scraped his skin. He grabbed it and saw it was a photo of him and Amanda shopping, with the date and location thoughtfully marked.

Sophia, tears streaming, growled through clenched teeth, "Anderson, who is this woman?!"

Across the city.

In a nearly empty cinema, Emily handed her ticket to the attendant, who noted, "This movie has been on for an hour already."

Emily nodded, "I know."

The attendant returned the ticket stub, "Turn left and head to the end of the hallway for the VIP screening room."

The hallway was dim, the carpet muffling her hurried steps. Emily opened the door to the screening room.

The VIP room was small, with the first three rows empty. Emily immediately spotted the man in the center of the last row.

The interplay of light and shadow from the screen made his eyes shine brightly even in the dimness.

Adjusting her glasses, Emily walked over and silently sat next to him.

Michael, previously lounging lazily, sat up slightly, "Hmph, I thought you were going to stand me up."

"You booked the whole theater. It would be a waste of your effort if I didn't come."

The footrest of the sofa rose, the back reclined, and Emily adjusted her seat to a comfortable position, lying back and muttering, "Don't waste money like this again. With all these tickets, we could have had several good meals."

With only the two of them in the hall, Michael spoke freely, laughing, "Doesn't this feel like we're having an affair?"

Knowing how to handle his half-joking comments, Emily pointed to the ceiling, "No sneaking around here, plenty of surveillance cameras. You can't do that sort of thing."

Michael, unable to resist her playful remark, pressed further, "Oh? And what sort of thing is that?"

Half-reclined, his arm resting behind his head, the light from the screen illuminating his eyes.

Feeling flustered, Emily turned her face to the screen, avoiding his question.

With their seats tilted at the same angle and close together, Michael easily reached over and pinched her cheek, "Hmm? Tell me, what sort of thing?"

Though he applied no pressure, the intimate gesture made Emily uncomfortable. She turned away, mumbling, "Stop it, I want to watch the movie."

His fingers pursued her, and Michael gave her cheek another playful pinch. Suddenly, his tone turned serious: "Why have you lost so much weight in just half a month?"

Today was their first meeting since that fateful weekend. Their clandestine rendezvous made it feel like they were in a spy thriller.

Hearing this, Emily skeptically pinched her own cheek, "I've lost weight? Really?"

"Didn't you notice yourself?"

"The apartment I'm staying in doesn't have a scale."

Emily had moved out of the guesthouse across from her home and found a new apartment with an open kitchen and plenty of natural light, making it easier for her to continue her work. Only Wang's lawyer and her brother and sister-in-law knew her new address; she hadn't told Michael.

Michael responded with a simple "Oh," and added, "Living alone now, you must take care to eat properly."

His fingers had moved to her chin, gently scratching her. "It tickles! You're so annoying..." Emily swatted at him, her frustration clear.

Michael dodged and laughed softly.

The dim blue light from the screen glinted off her glasses, but from Michael's angle, he could see her long lashes and her clear, bright eyes. He stopped teasing her and instead reached for the half-eaten popcorn, pushing it into her hands, "Did the express delivery arrive?"

A seemingly random question, but Emily understood immediately and nodded eagerly, "It did. It's a pity I couldn't be there to see her reaction."

She felt Michael must have influenced her, as she felt no guilt about this "prank."

They exchanged updates on the latest developments.

Both families knew about the breakup but didn't understand the exact reasons. Amanda had moved out of Michael's place, tearfully asking her mother to speak with Michael's mother to see if the elders could mend the relationship.

Emily's situation was the opposite. Anderson had kept everything from his parents, likely wanting to handle it privately without causing a scene.

Last night, Emily received a text from her mother-in-law, who was unhappy that Emily hadn't joined Anderson for dinner in weeks.

"They're the ones who cheated and disrespected the relationship, yet now they refuse to let go. What are they trying to achieve?" Michael couldn't comprehend their actions, angrily biting into the popcorn. "Even if we forgive them, the broken pieces can't be put back together. Continuing would only be mutual torment."

Emily sighed, "They just don't want to feel like they've wasted the years spent on this relationship. It's not about deep affection; it's about not wanting to let go."

Ultimately, people like Anderson and Amanda only loved themselves.

Unnoticed, the popcorn bucket was empty, and the movie was nearing its end. Emily adjusted her seat back upright, but her cheek once again fell into Michael's hand. Annoyed, she pretended to bite his fingers, "Why do you keep pinching my face?"

"You won't let me kiss you or do anything else, so pinching your face is all I've got."

Michael laughed, his eyes crinkling. He brought his finger to Emily's lips, lightly brushing them, "Go ahead, bite."

The familiar proximity, the remembered warmth and scent of each other, made Emily bite her lip and lean back.

Since nothing could continue, it was best not to provoke him further.

She wasn't the playful type, but she understood this etiquette.

Michael withdrew his hand, his smile fading slightly, "Why did you agree to see me today?"

He had asked her out several times before but was always refused.

Emily rubbed her itchy nose, "You've helped me a lot. Consider it paying back a favor."

She grabbed her backpack, took out a package, and tossed it to Michael, "And, happy birthday."

Today was September 19th, Michael's birthday.

Michael picked up the package and, by the light, saw that it contained cookies shaped like maple leaves.

"Did you make these yourself?" he asked, surprised.

Emily pursed her lips, pointing to the bakery logo on the packaging, "Bought them from a bakery. I don't have an oven in my place yet."

Michael immediately rolled his eyes, "No sincerity at all!"

"Don't want them? Give them back."

"I never said I didn't want them. Once given, they're mine."

He acted like a child, making Emily laugh.

As the movie ended, Emily stood to leave, but Michael called after her, "Hey, when can we meet again?"

Emily paused mid-step and, after a moment, replied, "When my divorce is finalized, I'll treat you to dinner."