Part 1The Passenger Seat Scandal

After I actively made up with her, I saw a box of ultra-thin 001 condoms in the passenger seat of Sylvia's car.

I silently put it away for her, didn't ask, didn't make a scene.

Sylvia looked at me with complex eyes and actively explained:

"Check again, the whole box is there. We ran out at home."

I hummed, leaning against the uncomfortable seat, feigning sleep.

Until she parked the car by the road, her tone softening:

"Let's buy some supplements. We'll go back to your home for New Year's Eve to see Mom."

I couldn't hold back the tears in the end, turning my back to her.

My mom passed away, and she still didn't know.

* * *

"Ethan? Are you listening to me?"

Sylvia's voice deepened, carrying the oppressive aura of a superior.

I said hoarsely:

"No need."

No need to go back, never again.

She misunderstood my meaning, leaning over to look:

"Angry?"

"Trust me, okay? Or you can count them?"

Saying that, she opened the box, pouring out all the condoms, her eyes filled with helpless doting, as if coaxing a tantrum-throwing child.

I wiped my tears and looked over:

"Really not angry."

Sylvia leaned in to hug me, sighing:

"Still saying you're not angry."

"Didn't you always want me to accompany you back?"

"It's rare that I don't have social engagements this New Year."

"If we miss it, who knows when the next time will be."

Her palm gently patted my back, trying to comfort me as usual.

But I pushed her away numbly, nodding:

"Okay, let's go then."

Before my mom died, she was nagging about her daughter-in-law being too busy with work to see her one last time.

If Sylvia has time for New Year's, it's good to go pay respects.

After all, after the divorce, there will be no reason to ask her to go.

I bought a lot of things online, mostly flowers for the grave.

Worrying about inflation down there, I planned to burn more.

But on New Year's Day, Sylvia didn't come back.