After leaving the hospital, I wrapped myself tightly in my coat and weakly made my way home.
At 10:41 p.m., Ethan finally returned.
“It’s pitch black in here. How are you getting lazier with age? You didn’t even bother turning on the lights,” were the first words out of his mouth as he stepped through the door.
I curled up on the sofa in silence and glanced at the dishes on the table that had been left untouched for three days.
Those were the meals I had prepared before my fever, feeling sorry for Ethan working late at the office and not eating properly.
At this moment, I realized that the lonely hours I spent suffering in the hospital were the same hours Ethan spent enjoying himself with Anna. He had not even come home, let alone eaten the food.
Ethan followed my gaze and noticed the now-stale dishes. His expression turned impatient.
“Stop acting up. You know how busy I’ve been,” he said coldly.
“It’s normal to miss meals when work gets hectic. You work too, so you should understand how hard this is for me. Besides,” he added with practiced ease, “you have no idea how long I had to entertain those clients today. I just wrapped it up and rushed straight home to see you.”
He stretched his neck. It was as if this was his helpless excuse for rejecting my 16 calls.
I watched him with a faint smile, every frame of him with Anna at the hospital replaying in my mind.
“Is that so?” I asked, forcing a smile through the pain.
Ethan frowned, annoyed at my questioning, and quickly retorted, “Of course. I’m a workaholic. I’m doing this to build a better future for you. Work is all I know.”
As though nothing had happened, he casually ordered me, “Oh, right. Pack my suitcase and stock up on snacks and fun things. I have a business trip to Bali.”
I blinked. As one of the company’s senior managers, I had not heard of any projects in Bali. I deliberately asked, “Do you need me to come along?”
