Chapter 3

A few seconds later, his message popped up.

"Seraphina, I'm begging you. Do it for me."

I looked at those words and smiled.

I replied with one word. "Fine."

Then I went into the kitchen and made a pot of his favorite black chicken soup.

I used to make it for him often when his stomach was bad.

He always said my soup tasted like home.

I opened the salt container and poured the entire thing into the pot.

This was the taste he hated most.

He had mild nephritis. The doctor had instructed him to follow a low-salt diet.

I carried the thermos to the hospital.

When I pushed open the door to the hospital room, Tristan had his back to me, bending over.

Vivian was leaning against the headboard wearing a necklace around her neck.

That necklace was the one I had my eye on at an auction last week.

At the time, Tristan said that kind of flashy thing wasn't suitable for me.

Now it was around Vivian's neck.

Hearing the door open, Tristan turned around. When he saw me, there was guilt in his eyes.

He instinctively tried to hide the necklace on Vivian's neck.

"Seraphina, why are you here?"

He walked over to take the thermos from my hands.

"Vivian isn't feeling well. She's just borrowing it. I'll return it to you in a few days."

Vivian spoke up sweetly.

"Seraphina, don't misunderstand. Tristan said this is a meeting gift for me."

I said nothing and just placed the thermos on the table.

Tristan quickly opened it, poured a bowl of soup, and handed it to Vivian.

"Try it. Seraphina made this especially for you."

Vivian took the soup bowl and looked at me provocatively, then deliberately let her hand slip.

"Ah!"

The scalding soup spilled all over the back of my hand.

My skin turned red instantly, burning with pain.

But Tristan rushed to Vivian first.

"Vivian! Are you frightened? Did it burn you?"

He nervously examined Vivian's hands, afraid she had suffered even the slightest injury.

Vivian shrank into his arms and shook her head pitifully.

"Seraphina, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. My hand slipped."

Only then did Tristan turn back to look at me, his brow furrowed.

"Seraphina, why are you so clumsy? You almost scalded the patient!"

I looked at my rapidly swelling hand. It would soon blister.

This was the last time I would cook for him.

I didn't argue. I just looked at Tristan quietly, my gaze like I was looking at a dead man.

He felt uneasy under my stare and only then noticed my red hand.

He frowned and tried to grab my hand to examine the injury.

"What happened? How careless!"

I shook off his hand and spoke to him in an extremely unfamiliar tone for the first time.

"Don't touch me."

Tristan's expression darkened immediately, anger surging up.

"Seraphina, have you had enough!"

He snatched the car keys from my pocket.

"You stay here and reflect! When you figure out how to be a sensible wife, I'll come pick you up!"

He slammed the door and left, leaving me alone with the gloating Vivian.

Today was my birthday and also the third anniversary of when Tristan and I got our marriage license.

A month ago, he had promised to book the most spectacular fireworks show in the entire city for my birthday.

I had reserved his favorite restaurant and waited from evening until late night. The dishes on the table had gone cold.

He didn't come.

The restaurant TV was playing local news.

"A serious car accident occurred on the city's mountain road. A black Bentley collided with a truck. The scene is critical..."

I knew that license plate on the mangled Bentley all too well.

My heart sank as I grabbed my coat and rushed out.