"He actually took the time to ask for leave from the hospital to come home for the New Year. Why can’t you make the effort to visit my parents' house for the holiday? What kind of son-in-law skips out on his in-laws during New Year’s?"
Her voice was deliberately loud, trying to force an air of authority.
Maybe it was because we had been together for so long, but I could see right through her, her guilt as clear as day.
She knew it was wrong, sneaking around with Declan in the middle of the night. She knew she had betrayed me. And yet, here she was, defending him and scolding me as though I were the one at fault.
Before tonight, I might have tried to argue, to defend myself. But tonight, my father’s sudden passing had left me hollow, too drained to fight.
My mother was still waiting for me at the funeral home. I threw them both a cold, empty glance, my silence speaking louder than any words could.
Yvette's face twisted uncomfortably. "Apologize to me, and I’ll take you home to see my parents right now. As a son-in-law, you can’t just skip out on New Year’s."
She softened her voice, trying to make it sound more reasonable. "My mom even made your favorite braised prawns. Don’t you want to show her some respect?"
I let out a sharp, cold laugh, meeting her eyes with disdain. "Get lost."
Her temper flared once more, her patience clearly running thin. "I’ve said everything there is to say, both good and bad. Are you still trying to make a scene?"
She continued, her words growing sharper. "You insisted on going home for the holiday, and now look at you, wandering the streets like some lost soul. I tried to coax you, and this is how you repay me?"
A faint tinge of hurt flickered across her face, but my gaze remained as cold as ice.
She kept going on about those braised prawns as if they were some magical offering. To me, they were nothing more than a deadly allergen.
I could only eat river prawns and seafood in any form, which was something I couldn’t touch. Yet she hadn’t even bothered to remember that.
Then, the image of the photo Declan had sent me earlier of their family dinner flashed through my mind.
In the picture, the braised prawns lay in front of Declan, nearly devoured, with just one or two remaining. And there was Yvette, wearing gloves, carefully peeling the shells for him. The pile of discarded shrimp shells was a clear sign of her favoritism.
This dish, supposedly "made for me," had ended up in Declan’s stomach.
I remembered a time when I had asked Yvette to peel an orange for me. She had mocked me for the simple request as if I had asked her for something outrageous.
The sting of that memory hit me like a sharp jab to the chest, and I felt my eyes burn.
Yvette noticed the change in my expression, letting out a sigh of impatience. "What’s got you so upset now? Can’t we just have a peaceful New Year for once?"
"I don’t remember you being this difficult before."
Her words caught me off guard. I couldn’t believe she had the nerve to bring up the past.
Once, I had been the general manager of a top-ten company, respected and successful. She had been the one to ask me to step back, to take a backseat and let her take the lead.
She promised that even if I didn’t work, there would always be enough money to spend.
Whenever I mentioned wanting to work again, Yvette would find a thousand ways to shut me down, whether through arguments or the coldest silence. To keep the peace, I compromised, lowering my expectations bit by bit, each time convincing myself it was for the greater good.
Now, it hit me like a ton of bricks: just how much I had sacrificed for this marriage. It wasn’t just my career or dreams; it was my very sense of self. The person I once was, strong and unyielding, would never have allowed such self-pity to take root. Never would I have lowered my standards for anyone, no matter how much I loved them.
But love, it seemed, had the power to make us foolish.
Yvette, however, saw my sacrifices as nothing more than proof of her own worth. She didn’t understand that it was never about her, she thought I couldn’t survive without her.
Then Declan sighed heavily, his brow furrowing.
"Enough," he muttered, a hint of frustration lacing his voice. "I’m done. Let me get through this New Year, and I’ll leave the country tomorrow, alright?"
Yvette’s face immediately darkened, her expression turning to one of genuine concern.
"No," she said firmly. "You can’t go. It’s too chaotic abroad. You can’t go alone. You were forced to leave six years ago because of him, and I won’t let you make the same mistake again!"
Even now, Yvette spouted nonsense, her mind clouded by fears that weren’t even her own.
