Chapter 3
The next day, when I was discharged from the hospital, I ran into Dylan in the hospital lobby.
He was supporting a woman who was tall and thin, with a pale face.
She was Mandy.
The woman who had made Dylan lose control at the wedding, the one he abandoned everything for at the mere sound of her threat.
My gaze lingered for a moment on the thick bandage wrapped around her
wrist.
She seemed to sense it, flinching slightly before shrinking back behind. Dylan, gripping his arm nervously.
Dylan spotted me.
He frowned and walked toward me with a tinge of irritation in his voice.
“Emilia, what are you doing here? I told you, Mandy’s still weak. Whatever it is, we can talk about it at home–don’t cause a scene here.”
At his words, Mandy, who was in his arms, turned even paler, looking as if she might shatter at any moment.
“E–Emilia, please don’t misunderstand. Mr. Degnan and I really have nothing going on.”
I tightened my grip on the payment receipt in my hand and smiled.
“You misunderstood. I’m just here for a follow–up.”
Chapter 3
A flicker of confusion crossed Dylan’s eyes, as if he hadn’t expected me to be so calm.
I brushed past them.
Once I walked out of the hospital, my phone buzzed with a message from
Dylan.
“Emilia, don’t be angry. I was just too anxious about her.
“You like that cake from the west of the
you.”
city. I’ve already ordered some for
Staring at those texts, I couldn’t help but find them utterly ironic.
That cake shop was a little spot he and I discovered together right after I graduated.
Back then, we had no money. We’d split a single cake into two portions to
make it last.
Later, when his work got busy or every time he upset me and didn’t have the time to smooth things over, he’d order a cake from there.
I’ve been eating those cakes for seven years. Agrew tired of them a long time ago.
But I felt bad for him–bad that he’d pull all–nighters at work for days on end, yet still go out of his way to cheer me up.
So every time, I’d pretend to love it.
I hoped it might ease his guilt a little and make him a little happier.
Now, I finally didn’t have to pretend anymore.
I gave the cake to the security guard downstairs, then texted Dylan back.
Chapter 3
“No need. No matter how good something tastes, you grow tired of it after eating it for so long.”
He must have caught the meaning beneath my words, because he replied quickly with just one word.
“Sorry.”
That night, Dylan didn’t come home.
I started packing my things.
This house we’d decorated together–the string lights twinkling on the balcony, the rug in the living room, the professional books lined up side by side in the study–every corner held memories of our seven years together.
The year we graduated, he had just joined the police force, earning a meager salary.
Yet he took the money he’d saved for a long time, along with his payroll card, and placed them in my hand.
“Emilia, I said I’d give you a home, and I mean it.”
In my memory, that young man’s eyes were burning with passion and sincerity.
He said he’d give me a home.
Now, it was he who had personally driven me out of this home.
