Chapter 2

Seeing the situation, Stella quickly pulled her daughter Lucy's hand.

"Daniel, maybe we should just go home for now. Let's not make you two argue because of us."

"Stella, stay out of it."

Daniel grabbed her arm.

"This isn't your fault; she's just overthinking things. She just needs to calm down."

With that, he walked straight into the kitchen, brought out the dishes I had just cooked, and pulled Stella and Lucy to sit down and eat.

No one paid any attention to me, standing alone in the living room.

Laughter echoed from the dining table. A single tear fell silently at my feet.

In that moment, I understood completely.

He thought I was making a mountain out of a molehill. I thought he was cold and heartless.

We lived under the same roof, but we were already people from two different worlds.

I closed my eyes, forcing the tears back. When I opened them again, my gaze was clear.

Stella eventually left, taking the sweater with her.

Daniel walked over to me, attempting to embrace me.

"My tone was a bit harsh just now, I apologize. I'm sorry."

I didn't resist, letting him hold me.

His body was warm, but that warmth never reached my heart.

I remembered many years ago, during Lily's illness.

Lily's hair fell out, and she started to refuse looking in the mirror.

That yellow sweater was knitted during that time.

I wanted her to be warm, and I wanted her to look less frail.

The day the sweater was finished, Lily was overjoyed, flashing a long-lost smile at her reflection in the mirror.

"Mommy, look, don't I look like a little bunny?"

I smiled and nodded, tears streaming down my face.

When Daniel arrived, he also saw the sweater.

He merely said flatly,

"Looks nice. Don't let her catch a cold."

Then, he answered his phone again.

He was always busy; there was always something more important than his daughter and me.

It wasn't that he didn't contribute; he covered all the medical expenses.

But he left all the companionship, the agony, and the despair for me alone to bear.

Now, he even wanted to take away the last shred of my memories.

Pulling myself from my memories, I gently pushed him away.

"Daniel Miller, the word you've said most to me these past few years is 'I'm sorry.'"

He was busy when I gave birth; I went to the hospital alone.

He was busy when Lily was sick; I cared for her alone.

He was busy during Lily's funeral; I handled everything alone.

Afterward, he would always quickly say he was sorry.

With each of his apologies, my heart shattered over and over again.

The light was dim, Daniel's face largely hidden in shadow.

I couldn't make out his expression, but when he looked up, I met his eyes—utterly devoid of emotion.

My heart lurched with pain.

My voice came out fractured as I spoke again.

"But I don't need an apology."

He frowned.

"I don't understand. What do you need then? Love? We've been married for years, Amelia. That kind of 'love' is just empty sentiment now."

I stared blankly at the husband I'd been married to for ten years. His appearance hadn't changed much.

But his heart, it seemed, had never truly beaten for me from the very beginning.

He saw my lack of reaction and was about to say something more when he received a call from his company.

"Amelia, don't overthink this. There's an urgent matter at the company; I have to go."

He patted my head reassuringly. Just as he reached the door, Stella rushed in.

Her face was tear-streaked, her words choked with sobs.

"Daniel, Lucy has a fever, I don't know what to do…"

I heard Daniel say softly to her,

"Don't worry, I'll drive you to the hospital right away!"

The door slammed shut, and a deathly silence filled the living room.

I tugged at the corner of my mouth, a bitter smile forming.

When Lily was in the ICU and critical, Daniel never seemed so anxious.

My heart felt utterly cold.

He didn't love me.

All these years, I had always known.

But I'd clung to a last sliver of hope, wondering if, with long years of being together, he might eventually fall in love with me.

Now, with his actions, he told me.

That day would never come.

Never.