Chapter 4

"I can't handle spicy dishes. Please enjoy your meal at your own pace," I clarified.

As our gazes locked, Charlie's hold on my arm intensified gradually, causing me discomfort.

Miranda rose anxiously, stating, "Mr. Peterson, it's understandable for Miss Jennings to be emotional, given her pregnancy. Perhaps my presence is making her uneasy. I should probably leave."

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, appearing somewhat aggrieved.

Charlie abruptly let go of my arm and turned to console her, "Why should you go? This is her issue, not yours."

After a pause, he faced me with a stern expression, saying, "Can't you just be calm for once? Must you spoil every meal?"

He then muttered, "I wasn't even aware you couldn't eat spicy food. Since when? Other pregnant women can manage it. Why can't you? Are you being truthful?"

"It's because I recently had a miscarriage..."

I instinctively tried to explain, but he dismissively waved his hand, cutting me off.

"Enough!" he interrupted. "If you're not eating, just take a walk and let us enjoy our meal in peace, okay?"

He sat back down, focusing once again on peeling shrimp for the girl beside him. He gently cautioned her, "Take it slow, or you might choke."

I bit my lip, catching Miranda's mocking glance.

Grabbing my bag, I stormed out of the house. I ended up at some random eatery and had a meal.

Upon returning home, I stood outside the door, my legs feeling like lead, unable to move. From inside, I could hear laughter and the sound of a hairdryer. Charlie was likely drying the girl's hair again.

The engagement ring on my left hand's ring finger suddenly glinted, the light stinging my eyes.

The winter wind was harsh, turning my hands red.

I slipped the ring off and tossed it into the nearby trash bin. My eyes then fell on the engagement decorations we had painstakingly created two years ago. In one swift motion, I tore them down.

If my earlier thoughts were driven by emotion, now I clearly understood my heart. I no longer loved Charlie and had no desire to marry him.

After standing in the biting wind to clear my head, I finally entered the passcode to access the apartment. However, the door wouldn't budge as it was locked from within.

Frustrated, I pounded on the door.

Yet, either my knocking was drowned out by the hairdryer or overwhelmed by Miranda's joyful laughter, but no one came to let me in.

I crouched by the door, my legs eventually going numb. It wasn't until midnight that the door finally opened.

Miranda gasped, covering her mouth in surprise upon seeing me. "Miss Jennings! When did you return?"

Charlie's eyes lingered on my pale face before he spoke, his tone tinged with irritation, "If you were back, why didn't you just come in? Was there any point in sitting out here like this? Did this behavior somehow make you feel better?"

My voice was raspy as I walked past them, "The door was locked. I couldn't get in."

The scent of their reunion that clung to them repulsed me. I ignored the fleeting guilt that crossed Charlie's face and heard him say softly, "I'll take Miranda home first. It's late and it's not safe for her to be out alone."

I barely cared and only hummed indifferently before heading straight upstairs. All I wanted was a hot shower to warm up and the comfort of my bed for a good night's rest.

I was also too drained to ponder why Charlie was concerned about Miranda's safety but seemed indifferent to his wife potentially being in danger if she came home late at night.

Nor did I have the energy to question what Charlie and Miranda had been doing in the apartment, why the door had been locked, why they had been showering and drying hair together, or why their scents mingled.

In truth, the relationship between Charlie and me had never been like this before.