Chapter 4

Damien came home early today, bringing with him a bouquet of my favorite champagne roses.

"Aria, I'm sorry. I promise, from now on, I'll accompany you to art exhibitions every week!"

"Don't bother, there's nothing worth seeing anyway."

I clearly saw Damien breathe a sigh of relief after hearing my words.

But his words remained sweet as honey:

"Alright, if you don't want to go, we won't. Today was my fault. Just wait, hubby will make you a feast to make amends!"

I've seen Damien's silhouette cooking in the kitchen countless times. As I was lost in thought, my phone buzzed again.

It was a new message from my assistant. The photo showed a man's back as he cooked, looking eerily familiar.

The only difference was the legs wrapped around his waist and the faint outline of a woman in his arms.

"Aria, are you enjoying the meal Damien cooked? I helped choose one of the dishes! So you two don't get bored eating the same things all the time."

Sure enough, among the dishes Damien served, there was one I had never tried before.

Looking at the man in front of me urging me to taste it, I couldn't help but cover my mouth and run to the bathroom, feeling nauseous and dry heaving.

After retching for a while, only bringing up some bile, I looked up to meet Damien's concerned gaze:

"Aria, let's go to the hospital and get you checked out."I shake my head, and Damien says:

"Then should I go buy a pregnancy test for you to check?"

There's barely contained joy in his voice. I coldly push away his supporting arm:

"My period just ended last week. Weren't you keeping track for me?"

Damien freezes, then guiltily pours me water and checks my temperature, apologizing:

"I'm sorry Aria, I've been so busy lately. I thought you hadn't gotten your period this month..."

Suddenly, as if remembering something, Damien stands stock-still like someone grabbed his throat.

Then he hastily grabs his clothes and car keys, heading for the door:

"Aria, there's an emergency at my gallery. I won't be home tonight, get some rest!"

The living room is pitch black. I lower my eyes to look at the new message on my phone.

"Damien says he just remembered I didn't get my period this month, and insists on taking me to the hospital for a checkup."

"If there's really a little sweetheart in my belly, you'll bless our family of three, won't you Aria?"

So the one who didn't get her period in Damien's memory was his little assistant.

He used to have a special notebook to track my menstrual cycle.Every time my period is about to start, he always prepares painkillers and a heating pad in advance, in case I get menstrual cramps.

Now this thoughtful treatment has been redirected to his little assistant instead.

I switch chat windows to confirm the flight information sent by my professor.

In three days, I'll finally be able to leave this nauseating home for good and be truly free.

The next day, I wake up early and start packing my bags.

From dating to marriage over more than a decade, the house has accumulated quite a few gifts Damien gave me.

But looking at these things, what comes to mind isn't the excitement I felt when receiving them.

Instead, it's the image from the photos the assistant sent me, of Damien looking like he wants to offer her the whole world.

The gifts he gives her are better and more thoughtful than mine.

I can even spot many gifts from the same brands.

Except hers are the main products, while mine are just free samples.

I let out a bitter laugh, toss aside the gift in my hand, and turn to carefully pack up my own belongings one by one.

Just as I close the suitcase, Damien pushes open the door and comes in.

Seeing me with my luggage, he freezes for a moment before hastily speaking:

"Aria, where are you going? I'm sorry, I was wrong last night. I shouldn't have left you alone at home."I watched as Damien skillfully apologized, feeling nauseous and on the verge of dry heaving. It took me a while before I could finally speak:

"Nowhere in particular. I've got some clothes I've never worn, gonna donate them."