After seeing the elder lady off, I walked back in a daze. From around the corner came the admiring voices of young nurses.
"Miss Yates is so lucky. Just a minor reconstructive surgery and her boyfriend has booked the entire VIP floor to be with her every step of the way!"
"Don't talk nonsense!" the older nurse scolded. "That's Dr. Yager's husband!"
The young nurse gasped. "Dr. Yager just lost her child and her husband is already so high and mighty with his mistress!"
"It's worse," the older nurse said indignantly. "He personally picks up her medication three times a day, passing Dr. Yager's room each time, yet he's never once gone inside!"
I walked past expressionlessly, but my feet involuntarily turned towards the elevator.
In the top-floor ward, I could see Wanda coquettishly hand her half-eaten mousse to August.
I remembered clearly that he had severe mysophobia. Once, just because I tasted a bite while cooking, he disgustedly threw away the entire table of food. Yet now, he naturally took the spoon Wanda had used and finished the mousse she had left behind.
I took all of this in, but felt nothing inside except numbness.
"Dr. Yager, what are you doing here?" The nurse's voice rang out abruptly.
Startled, Wanda began to cough. August hurriedly patted her back. "Apologize," he said unpleasantly.
The nurse quickly said, "I'm sorry! I … "
"I wasn't talking to you," he interrupted with a dark expression. "Eleanor, you scared Wanda. Apologize!"
A strange flicker passed through August's eyes and his frown deepened. As his lips parted slightly, Wanda suddenly cut in, "It's not Dr. Yager's fault. I'm just too clumsy."
The wrinkles between August's brows instantly smoothed out. He gently pinched her nose, "You really are a little fool."
I was about to leave when I was called back.
"Don't run around right after giving birth," he said with a hint of disgust. "If you're so healthy, take the baby home as soon as possible."
The nurse hesitated. "But your baby … "
"I know," I interrupted her, leaving without looking back.
At dawn two days later, I went through the discharge procedures alone.
When I returned, the house was empty. I gently pushed open a door and the warm colors instantly brightened my vision.
Every detail in this nursery was arranged by my own hands. Beige wallpaper, cloud-shaped chandelier—everything was exactly what August and I had dreamed of.
Back then, we were crammed into my rented apartment and he twirled a strand of my hair and said, "From now on, our home will be decorated entirely in the warm colors you love."
But later, our home became as cold as a tomb.
In this entire house, only this room retained a trace of warmth.
Now, the once cozy nursery was a mess. A glaring lace bra lay on the waterbed and curly long hairs were tangled on a little cat-eared hat. The scent of intimacy lingered heavily in the air.
My stomach churned, so I rushed into the bathroom and threw up violently.
After washing my face, I threw away the waterbed and packed the baby's things.
"Just give Mommy four more days, baby," I whispered, burying my face in a soft yellow onesie. "Mommy will take you away from here and we'll never come back."
As dawn broke, a fragrant aroma wafted in.
Following the scent into the kitchen, I saw August standing at the stove, an apron tied around his waist.
He used to despise the smell of oil and smoke. Back then, if my cooking left even a hint of scent, he wouldn't let me sit at the same table.
Yet now he was fully focused on the stove, with several failed pots of soup lined up beside him.
When he saw me, his eyes immediately lit up. "You're just in time! Come try this!"
