After that day, Adrian began to sense that something was off.
Evelyn was too calm—so calm it unsettled him.
She no longer left a light on for him when he came home late, or kept a bowl of soup warm. She stopped updating him on every detail of Vanessa's care. Even when he brought up wedding preparations, she only listened, offering no opinion.
This silence unsettled him more than her old obedience ever had.
As if something, somewhere he couldn't see, was quietly breaking apart.
Driven by a mix of guilt and the urge to make things right, Adrian made a detour on his way home and bought the shop's signature strawberry matcha cake from a boutique bakery that was notoriously hard to book.
He remembered Vanessa liked it.
As for what Evelyn liked? He frowned, thinking for a moment, but came up with nothing.
She had always followed his preferences.
Maybe… she liked sweets too.
He pushed the cake toward her, his tone deliberately softened. "I brought this for you. About the studio the other day… I should've told you in advance. I just thought the wedding couldn't happen without photos of the bride and groom. I made the decision too quickly and didn't think about how you'd feel. That's on me. Don't take it to heart."
Evelyn looked at the delicate dessert—the strawberries bright red, the matcha a vivid green.
She didn't like sweets. And she hated the bitterness of matcha even more.
On her first birthday after they got married, he had brought home a Black Forest cake. She had forced herself to finish it, then spent the entire night sick, throwing up.
He had probably forgotten long ago.
"When the wedding with Vanessa is over," Adrian added when she didn't respond, "I'll take you to do a proper wedding shoot. Then we'll go on a trip. Didn't you always say you wanted to see the aurora? How about a destination wedding in Frosthaven?"
Evelyn's fingers trembled slightly.
The aurora.
It was a dream she had mentioned long ago, almost in passing.
And the wedding he had promised her…
He remembered.
Her pale lips parted, the words nearly slipping out—she might not have a future at all.
But his phone vibrated in his pocket. He glanced at it, his expression changing slightly—it was the hospital caregiver.
He answered immediately, his voice tense. "What happened? Is Vanessa feeling unwell again? Alright, I'll be there right away!"
He hung up, grabbed his coat, and spoke quickly to Evelyn, "Vanessa has a slight fever and isn't stable. I need to go check on her. Make sure you eat the cake."
Before he finished speaking, he was already at the door.
So that was all he remembered.
"Adrian." Evelyn called out to him.
He turned back, frowning, one hand still on the doorknob, his whole posture impatient.
Evelyn looked at his face—so familiar, yet so distant—and at the concern in his eyes for another woman. The words caught in her throat.
Did he remember she hated sweets? Hated matcha?
If she were the one who was sick, would he stay?
She already knew the answer.
"Drive safe." In the end, that was all she said, her gaze lowered.
Adrian seemed taken aback for a second, as if he hadn't expected that. He gave a vague "mm" and hurried out the door.
The door shut, cutting off all sound. The room fell into a dead silence.
Evelyn slowly opened the cake box. The sweet scent hit her all at once.
She picked up the small plastic spoon, scooped a bite, and put it in her mouth.
As expected, it made her stomach turn.
She rushed to the bathroom and retched violently over the toilet, until what came up was nothing but murky fluid streaked with blood.
She braced herself against the sink, turning on the tap, watching the red fade and wash away.
In the mirror, her eyes were sunken, her body gaunt.
It didn't matter.
She thought.
Three more days. It would be over soon.
