Chapter 3

This time, he let out a cold chuckle and said casually, "The money's yours. But first, Phoebe Johnson, lower that arrogant head of yours and say sorry to Cora."

Wesley was trying to buy my self-respect with two million, to get an apology for Cora. For the first time ever, he used money to belittle me for another woman's sake. I balled my hands into fists, forcing a slight smile. Fighting the sudden rush of agony, I turned and walked away. I no longer wanted the money.

I found myself suddenly very intrigued by Wesley. If someday you learned that this money could have extended my life, if you knew the extent of my suffering before death, what would your face show?

I returned home by myself, curled up in agony, soaked in a cold sweat. I took some sleeping pills, telling myself, "Sleep will make the pain go away." In my hazy state, I dreamed of when I was twenty, when Wesley was poor but deeply in love with me.

That year on my birthday, as I walked past a café, I noticed a couple by the window. The girl was holding a pure white cake that looked exquisite, mouthwatering, and costly. I recall it was snowing heavily that day. I gathered a small mound of snow, grinned at Wesley, and asked, "Wes, doesn't this pile of snow resemble a cake?"

Wesley bit his lip, embraced me tightly, not letting me see his eyes that had secretly welled up. Three days later, he appeared at my dorm with a large cake. A whole cake cost 258 dollars. But standing in the snowy street, distributing 3,000 flyers only earned him 100 dollars. Seeing his frostbitten fingers, I wept uncontrollably.

Looking up, I yelled at him, "Wesley, your hands are meant for studying and writing, not for ruining them to make me happy! I don't deserve such a pricey cake at all..."

Wesley furrowed his brow, quickly countering me. He said, "Phoebe, you're the most wonderful girl in the world. You deserve all its good things."

That day, I cried and devoured the entire cake. I can't recall its flavor anymore. I just know I never had a better cake since. I slept for a long time, vaguely hearing my phone ring. Answering it, I heard Wesley's voice, "Phoebe."

I smiled gently, sweetly calling him, "Wes, it's snowing heavily, I want cake." Before he could respond, I turned and fell back into a deep slumber.

I slept until midnight, waking up hungry. I went to the living room and discovered Wesley had come back. He had bought Cora a large house. They lived there together. Cora cooked for him, made him happy, and waited for him to come home. Wesley was doing well; he hadn't been back in a while.

He was leaning lazily against the window, a cigarette in his mouth, staring directly at me. I lowered my gaze, passing by him when he grabbed me. He frowned, asking softly, "Why have you lost so much weight?" His tone was gentle, as if he still cared for me.

I hesitated, pulling my hand away, snapping, "Wesley, what are you doing?"