01
In the third year of my marriage to Vincent Blackwood, his first love, Kimberly Langley, came back.
He started coming home later and later, with overtime becoming more frequent.
Vincent’s mother, Helen, was dissatisfied with this, blaming me for not being able to keep my husband in check or bear
children.
The candlelight flickered in the dining room, and just as it was about to burn out, Vincent finally came home.
The sound of the door opening merged with the living room clock striking midnight.
I looked at my husband, who had finally returned home in the dead of night. He looked exhausted, yet his eyes were strangely bright.
Seeing me sitting at the dining table so late, he was startled. “What are you doing up at this hour, trying to spook someone by sitting here like a ghost, Anne?”
- it.
He reached out and affectionately ruffled my hair as he spoke.
In the past, his playful tone would have made me happy.
But his current cheerfulness wasn’t because of me. It was because of the person who’d kept him out so late.
Kimberly was Vincent’s unattainable first love.
Ever since she came back, her name had invaded every corner of my life.
Vincent said Kimberly had no family in the country, and he was just helping out an old classmate, telling me not to overthink
Their mutual friends teased them right in front of me, his wife.
And Vincent never stopped them.
I raised my wine glass and gave it a gentle swirl, saying, “Happy third anniversary.”
Only then did he notice the room’s decorations.
The steaks on the dinner table had gone cold, the candles had burned down to nothing but bare candlesticks, and the dim wall
lights tried desperately to cast a warm glow over this sad excuse for a candlelit dinner.
He came forward to hug me apologetically, saying, “I’m sorry, I got caught up with work. Once things settle down, let’s go on
vacation and make up for our missed honeymoon.”
I was still such a pushover. The moment I heard his promise, I instantly forgot my unhappiness.
Our wedding had been rushed, and with him at a crucial point in his career, he went back to work the day after the ceremony, leaving our honeymoon just a dream.
We’d married through an arranged match and barely knew each other, so I didn’t have the confidence to bring it up.
“I’d mentioned taking a vacation once before, but he’d been noncommittal, so I never brought it up again.”
Now, he was bringing it up himself.
I looked up at him. “Really?”
He lowered his head and gazed straight into my eyes. On the hazy night, I mistook it for a husband’s love for his wife.
His voice was deep. “Really.”
His distraction made me forget to ask why he came home late on our wedding anniversary.
He took the wine glass from my hand, now barely half full from my nervous swirling, and downed it in one gulp.
Before I could react, he gripped my chin and kissed me.
He passed all the wine from his mouth to mine.
