Chapter 4
Christine let him hold her hand. As they stepped out of the second-floor room, Harry’s phone rang sharply, slicing through the moment. She glanced at the screen. “Little One.” Without thinking, Harry instinctively released her hand. It fell away, just like her heart, plunging into a void. Her fingers slammed against the wrought iron banister of the spiral staircase, leaving a vivid red mark behind. “Harry! I’m here! It’s impossible to catch a taxi at the airport. Come get me, hurry!” The playful voice on the other end made Harry’s previously furrowed brows smooth out in an instant. “Christine, why don’t you head to the hospital yourself? My friend can’t get a taxi, I need to go pick her up.” As if no one had ever flown before. Taxis, unlicensed rides, ride-shares if she had eight legs, she’d still find a way back. But of course, Harry never even considered another option. Christine gave him a silent nod. Go. “You’re the best! When I get back, show me the doctor’s receipt, okay? I want proof you actually went!” He was already bounding out the door, excitement lacing his voice. His words echoed in the empty villa. Christine chuckled softly, lips curling upward just as tears spilled down, dotting her black leather shoes. She didn’t go to the hospital. Instead, she turned back and lay down on the bed, letting the tears pool into her ears. Memories came rushing in like a tide. He used to make her glutinous rice tea with red dates and eggs during her period. She’d tease him, saying, “Wow, how does a big guy like you know how to nourish blood?” “To be a husband who lives by the Twenty-Four Filial Exemplars, effort is a must right, Darling?” He often called her “Darling” with such fondness that it melted her heart. He’d shop for her perfumes, bid on jewelry at auctions, even carefully select skincare products at department store counters. But now, it was clear he had always wanted to play the role of a devoted husband… just not to her. She remembered once crying from being deeply moved and him teasingly pinching her cheek. “Why do you cry every time you’re touched? Don’t worry you’ll have plenty more to cry about in the future.” At the time, she’d laughed through her tears, never realizing how prophetic those words would be. Later that night, Harry burst through the door, exhausted. He spotted her curled up on the bed, her cheeks flushed, tears still clinging to her lashes. Panicked, he swept her up and rushed her to the hospital. When she woke up, he was sitting by her bedside, eyes bloodshot with worry. “Darling, you don’t take care of yourself at all. I’m really angry! Didn’t you promise me you’d go to the hospital?” He sounded angry but the concern in his expression was unmistakable. Men. They really are the best actors when pretending to love. “I’ll grab your meds and get you something to eat.” Just as he stood, the ward door creaked open. A girl in a soft white cotton dress entered, smiling with two deep dimples. She looked like the very embodiment of innocence. “Oh, Christine, since your fever came from a stomach issue, you can’t eat just anything. I brought porridge!”