Chapter 2

Simon had already donned his jacket and dashed out without a glance back before I could even reply.

This time, I didn't bother asking about his destination or checking in on him.

The company's welcome email arrived promptly, requesting me to begin in a fortnight. I accepted without hesitation.

Two weeks would suffice to wrap up everything.

That evening, I slept surprisingly soundly.

The following morning, upon waking, I noticed Simon had prepared the morning meal.

"I got your preferred oatmeal. Eat it while it's hot," he said, appearing unexpectedly cheerful.

I remained unmoved. "Not necessary. I'm having breakfast with a friend. You can have it yourself."

Just thirty minutes earlier, Abigail had updated her social media.

[I mentioned wanting bao buns from this breakfast place, and my friend waited two hours to get them. He treats me so well!]

Throughout our marriage, Simon never voluntarily bought me breakfast, let alone queued up. Yet Abigail seemed to effortlessly enjoy such treatment.

The thought made my chest tighten, and I hastened towards the exit.

Seeing my firm rejection, Simon suddenly stood up, grasped my arm, and spoke angrily. "I said sorry last night, had dinner with you again—what more do you want?"

"Valerie, why are you being so difficult?"

I was confused. "I'm not being difficult."

I truly wasn't. But Simon didn't buy it. He scoffed coldly.

"From last night till now, you didn't call me once. This morning, I specially bought breakfast, and you still give me the cold shoulder. If this isn't sulking, what is it?"

I massaged my temples and exhaled. "Didn't you say you had work to do last night?"

I couldn't comprehend—wasn't this detachment exactly what he desired?

Simon hesitated, unable to respond right away. It took a moment before he finally spoke.

"You think I don't know you? If you were really so understanding, we wouldn't have had so many arguments before."

"I know you've always felt insecure because my family fostered you, but that doesn't justify being so controlling."

Simon's parents and mine were close friends. When I was ten, my parents perished in an auto accident, and the Lewis family took me in.

Simon's grandfather personally gave me a new name.

During our disputes, Simon would subtly or openly criticize my insecurity and controlling nature.

Previously, I would have erupted and argued with him. But this time, I no longer cared about his opinions.

I just wanted to leave, but Simon kept on talking.

Unable to contain myself, I cut him off, "We've known each other since childhood. Do you even know I'm allergic to fish?"

Simon went quiet, and I gave a sad smile. "Did you not notice, or did you forget?"

Either way, it was unbearably painful. Well, it didn't matter anymore.

I grabbed my purse, walked out, and didn't look back.

Simon opened his mouth as if to speak but remained silent.

An hour after leaving home, Simon, who rarely called me, had already phoned five times.

I flipped my phone face down on the table, completely ignoring it.

My friends found it strange, especially Brian.

He leaned in and whispered, "Are you really planning to give up? Aren't you worried your husband will be angry?"

I replied indifferently, "Why should I care?"

Since marrying Simon, I'd rarely dined out with friends. Even when I did, I wouldn't consume any alcohol.