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Before I married Adrian, I had the fortune of meeting old Mr. Evans once.
Though frail with age, his eyes were still sharp:
“Do you really love Adrian?”
I nodded firmly, “I love him more than my own life.”
The old man sighed, “Very well. You’re a sincere, good child. I can see that Adrian likes you too. It’s just that he probably hasn’t realized his own feelings yet…”
It was this conversation that gave me the courage to marry Adrian, even knowing about Rose’s existence.
However, Rose made a phone call to the old man, yelling, “Your son likes that vixen Rachel, and you old fool like her too!”
Mr. Evans collapsed on the spot and never woke up.
Rose pushed all the blame onto me.
I couldn’t defend myself and could only kneel and kowtow from the front gate all the way to Mr. Evans‘ memorial, a hundred times in total until my head was bloody. Only then did Adrian reluctantly forgive me.
I watched the water droplets fall onto the corpse’s chest. Can cats cry?
Adrian finally gave in: “Rose, whatever you want to do, I’ll go along with it.”
Rose was somewhat satisfied with this.
“Then let’s get married now.”
“I want to cremate Rachel myself.” She glared at me. “Along with her cat. Burn everything
to ashes.”
The crowd was stunned But no one dared to sten forward to stop her
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The crowd was stunned. But no one dared to step forward to stop her.
Just as Rose was about to light me on fire with her lighter, an elderly guest with graying hair finally couldn’t stand by any longer:
“This is too much! We should respect the dead. And the cat is innocent in all this!”
Others chimed in: “That’s right, Mr. Evans. At least let the cat go!”
Rose wanted to argue, but Adrian had already frowned and picked me up.
I curled up weakly against his chest.
Fluffy was a stray cat I had picked up on the street. Because Adrian disliked cats, I always kept it in my bedroom. Not that it mattered, since Adrian slept in the study when he came home anyway.
We hadn’t spoken to each other for four years, ever since we had a big fight about Rose returning to the country.
From age twenty–three to twenty–seven, for four whole years, I watched my husband busy himself for another woman every day, trying to please her while ignoring me.
I thought about reconciling. The old housekeeper, who was the only one who cared about me, suggested I have a child to win Adrian back.
“Once there’s a child, Mr. Evans will settle down.”
I dressed up carefully and waited for Adrian in the car, but he came with Rose in his
arms:
“Playing ‘one–night stand‘ again with your wife? Rose got drunk after a breakup. I need to take her home first. You go back by yourself.”
I stood awkwardly in the snow, pointed at by passersby:
“Isn’t that Mrs. Evans? How shameless, still not willing to divorce…”
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Meanwhile, the “drunk” Rose smirked at me from the car window.
There wasn’t a single car on the road on New Year’s Eve. I walked for three hours in the snow wearing just a dress and caught a high fever that night.
The old housekeeper called Adrian, but he impatiently hung up: “Throwing a tantrum and pretending to be sick again? Even if she’s really unwell, can’t she see a doctor herself? What use is there in calling me?”
For a whole month, Adrian never came back to see me once.
But I found out I was pregnant. It was from three months ago when Adrian, upon hearing Rose had a new boyfriend, had taken me in a fit of frustration.
Usually, he wouldn’t touch me.
All because Rose had said: “Adrian, if you love someone, you should be able to endure hardship. Since you love me, no matter who I’m with, you can only love me. But now you’re married to Rachel.”
“I want you to prove to me that you only love me.”
