Chapter 3
Patrick always said he liked me best when I was sensible and well–behaved.
I had always prioritized his feelings for everything. Even when I felt wronged or unhappy, as long as he coaxed me, I would quickly accept his gestures and let things
- go.
Just like now–he has lowered himself to make peace, fully expecting me to follow the path he laid out.
Forget it. I’m leaving soon to stay with my aunt abroad, and I don’t want to arouse his suspicion before then.
“The porridge is a little hot. Put it down; I’ll drink it later.”
Noticing the coldness in my tone, Patrick softened his voice. “Lora, you‘ re so
thoughtful. I knew you were the most considerate.”
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A short while later, Patrick received a phone call summoning him to the company. I didn’t need to guess behind it.
who was
Before leaving, he kissed my forehead and said, “Be good. There’s something urgent at the company. Later tonight at the auction, I’ll pick out a piece of jewelry just for you and bring it home.”
After he left, I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.
It’s undeniable–we once truly loved each other. He did love me, but eventually, that love shifted to Christy.
He betrayed me, yet he clung to such a flimsy excuse, claiming Christy looked so much like me in the beginning.
I gazed around the wedding home where we had lived together for seven years, my heart heavy with bitterness.
The living room‘ s background wall displayed our photos–memories from the
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early days of our love, to our wedding, and our annual anniversary pictures.
Every year, we took a new photo together. Every year, except this one.
Our story had reached its end. It was time
to part ways.
I sighed quietly, cut my image out of the group photos, and began packing my belongings.
I threw away my share of all the couple’s items scattered throughout the house.
Then, I signed the divorce agreement I’d had my lawyer prepare, placing it in a box alongside the abortion surgery report, and left it on the bedside table.
For good measure, I scheduled the screenshots of Christy‘ s social media
posts and messages to be sent to Patrick’s email.
I had just sat down to rest when a new message from Christy popped up.
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It included the time and location of the
auction, along with a taunting line, “Do you dare to show up, old lady? Uncle said he’ll light a sky lantern for love tonight!”
That evening, I arrived at the auction right on time.
I hadn’t planned to go–the flight to New Zealand was scheduled for tonight.
I was about to leave everything behind. Why should I let a child‘ s petty provocation bother me?
Christy sent me the jewelry catalog for tonight’s auction, flaunting the world’s top yellow diamond necklace, the final item on the list. She was determined to
claim it.
However, my attention was drawn to a piece by a new designer–a subtle and elegant brooch that perfectly suited my aunt’s daily style.
I decided to pick it up as a gift for her.
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apter 3
adiody aunt is the closest family I have. When launty parents passed away during my
ld dildhood, she took care of me. Later, she I moved to New Zealand to build a new life
nd wanted me to join her.
d at that
But at the time, I was deeply in love with
atrick. She couldn’t convince me
go–there-
herwise, so she let me stay in England. d fored for
w ironic that so–called “true love”
verylaver
ild bild
ved so fleeting.
te? must seven years, Patrick had shifted his
ections to someone else.
werjewelr
then I arrived at the auction, the primer tecknets up front were almost entirely vasd waupied.
lose a spot in the last row, intending to native once the auction concluded.
Jestener-
rick and Christy were seated in the trar perte
Idle, leaning close and laughing.
fle.
ether.
at up asa
ry so often, Christy glanced back, and
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when her gaze landed on me, her lips curled into a triumphant smirk.
Her expression was that of a proud little peacock, preening with arrogance.
