Part 3The Unloved One

That was the last chance I gave Harrison. As long as he confessed proactively, we could part amicably, preserving his last shred of dignity. And it would have brought closure to my final lingering sentiment for our five-year relationship.

“What do you mean?”

“Helen, what’s gotten into you today?”

Harrison’s expression also paused. Perhaps it was guilt. Perhaps it was a test. For the first time in five years, I couldn't read the man in front of me.

“Harrison, are you hiding something from me?”

The fingers gripping the cake knife tightened slightly. Just for an instant, then his expression returned to normal as he continued to cut the cake.

“Hiding what from you?”

His voice was gentle as he offered the first slice he cut to me. “Did I upset my wife by secretly buying a strawberry cake without telling her?”

The scent of strawberries wafted over. My favorite smell. Before, every time I smelled it, I couldn't help but lean in and kiss him. Now, looking at that slice of cake, I just felt nauseous.

“Answer my question.”

The smile on his face slowly faded. He placed the cake on the coffee table and sat across from me. His hands were clasped on his knees, his posture relaxed. But his gaze was fixed on me.

“Helen, did something happen to you?”

He was observing me. After five years of being together, I could discern the meaning of his every micro-expression. At this moment, the corners of his mouth were slightly downturned, and there was a faint crease between his brows. It was his tense posture when facing an uncertain situation.

“Harrison, I’m asking you right now. Answer me first.”

Silence spread between us. His phone suddenly rang. He glanced at the screen, didn’t answer, and immediately pressed to dismiss the call.

“Work stuff. I’ll call them back later.”

I casually said, “Call them back now. What if it’s important?”

“Nothing is more important than you.” Harrison had said that countless times. Each time, I believed it. Now, it only felt ironic.

“Helen.” He called my name seriously, his gaze focused. “I don’t know if my recent lack of companionship has made you overthink. But I can tell you, I’m not hiding anything from you. It’s been five years, you know best what kind of person I am.”

I was silent for a moment, then asked again, “Where were you this afternoon?”

His eyes flickered slightly, then quickly returned to normal. “At the office. I had a meeting until after one.”

“Who did you have lunch with?”

“Ordered some takeout, just grabbed something quick.”

“And tonight?”

Harrison paused. “Didn’t I tell you? I had a business dinner. Smell me, I still have the scent of alcohol on my breath.” He said, trying to lean closer to me. Seeing my disgusted expression, he looked hurt. “Alright, alright, I know my wife doesn’t like me drinking. I’ll go shower right away.”

The sound of rushing water from the bathroom. I stood at the door, hearing a muffled voice from inside.

“Didn’t I tell you not to call me when I’m home? What if she finds out? She seems to have noticed something lately…”

“No way, she’s the only daughter-in-law my parents recognized long ago. I can’t break up with her. Just be good. Besides going public, I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“Little minx, next week you won’t be able to get out of bed. See how I’ll satisfy you.”

Hearing this with my own ears, I thought I would be heartbroken to the point of tearing myself apart. But in reality, there was only a dull, spreading numbness. Perhaps my heart had truly given up.

At 3 AM, Harrison was already asleep. His phone lay on the bedside table, screen down. I picked it up; the password was my birthday, unchanged. I checked it, and there was no abnormality. Just when I thought he had cleaned everything, I suddenly remembered he had a so-called work-only private account. Switching over, there was only one contact named [Ms. Bunny]. The chat history was dense. Besides daily exchanges, it was mostly indecent flirtation and teasing.

Before he left in the morning, she asked: [Are you up?]

He replied: [Both I and it are up.] Accompanied by a picture of a blanket bulging.

At noon, he sent: [So conflicted, don’t know what to eat.]

She replied with a selfie wearing lace: [How about eating me?]

After saving all the evidence, I put the phone back in its place. Turning my head, I looked at the man's sleeping profile. I suddenly remembered something. My hand reached for his pants. Just as I started to pull them down, Harrison noticed my movement. He groggily opened his eyes and pressed my hand down.

“Wife, do you want to? I’ve been so tired from work lately. Let’s do it another time.”

Was he really tired from work? Or had he expended all his energy on that Ms. Bunny? I remembered the glimpse I had just caught. The bunny tattoo.

“Harrison, wake up. Tell me the truth.”

“Who is that woman?”