Love You Across Time

This was Dylan Rogers' third time not coming home for dinner.

There were only a few words in the WhatsApp message.

[Gianna, I'm working late tonight. I won't be home for dinner.]

My throat tightened.

I thought for a long time before replying: [Take care of yourself... don't overwork.]

I started seeing Dylan when I was 22, and he was already 37.

As a young girl just stepping into society, everything seemed fresh to me.

Meeting a successful, single, and mature man, it was hard to resist.

Naturally, I fell in love.

We spent several years together.

We were just a few months away from our five-year anniversary.

Dylan seemed to have suddenly changed.

At 1 AM, Dylan came home.

The sound of a car parking outside quickly drove away my late-arriving sleepiness.

I waited a long time but didn't see Dylan come to the bedroom.

I opened the bedroom door. I was ready to go look for him.

The living room on the first floor was brightly lit, and the sound of water came from the bathroom.

Dylan was showering in the first-floor bathroom?

Maybe it was too late. He didn't want to disturb my rest, so he didn't come to the bedroom.

I came up with an excuse in my mind, but still couldn't resist going forward to ask for a reason.

The bathroom was divided into wet and dry areas by frosted glass.

As soon as I opened the bathroom door, the scent of shower gel spread out.

I looked around and saw nothing different except a few more clothes in the dirty laundry basket.

As if driven by a sixth sense, I picked up Dylan's changed clothes and sniffed them.

It was a floral scent mixed with the sweet aroma of grapefruit.

I was stunned.

"Gianna, are you outside?" Dylan called.

Seeing I didn't answer, he spoke again.

"Go to bed early. The maid will wash the dirty clothes tomorrow, you don't need to do it," Dylan said.

I gripped the clothes tightly in my hands. The once neat collar was now wrinkled and out of shape.

I carefully put the clothes down and softly said, "Alright..."

I turned over and lay down on the bed.

I didn't ask. I just pretended nothing had happened.

As soon as he hugged me from behind, I seemed to catch a faint whiff of that scent again.

Through the scent of the shower gel, there was a hint of sweet fragrance.

"Gianna, sleep early," Dylan whispered.

Just like always, he kissed my cheek before bed and pulled me close into his arms.

It felt as if he still loved me the same as before.

The next morning, I woke up right at eight o'clock.

Dylan had been gone for a while.

Lately, Dylan had been leaving early and coming home late.

We rarely even saw each other, let alone talked about the seaside vacation we had planned.

People talk about the seven-year itch, but our marriage didn't even last five years before someone grew tired.

But I was never the one in control.

Just like back then, this man suddenly entered my life. He confessed his love to me in front of everyone.

Before I could even respond, my heart was already racing. I was eager to give a passionate answer.

I couldn't refuse him at all.

This man, more than ten years older than me, seemed to have a natural charm that drew me in.

Because of his seemingly sincere proposal.

I ignored all my friends' advice and threw myself into his life.

I always stood by my choice.

Dylan might not love me forever, but he would never betray me.

That was his promise.

The first time I called Dylan's secretary, it was ten o'clock at night.

I couldn't remember how many times Dylan had not come home for dinner.

Usually, by six in the evening, I would receive a timely message saying he wouldn't be home for dinner.

But today, it was nearly ten minutes before I got a late message: [It was a last-minute business trip. I won't be home tonight.]

I stared at the table full of Dylan's favorite dishes. I was dazed for a moment.

Then, I dumped them all into the trash.

"Isla, has Dylan not left work yet?" I asked.

Isla Adams was Dylan's secretary. She was a senior from my college. We knew each other and had a decent relationship.

"Mr. Rogers left right at six this evening," Isla replied.

"Is that so..." I murmured.

"There's something else..."

Isla hesitated for a moment before she continued.

"Mr. Rogers recently hired a new assistant. She's a recent college graduate..."

I gripped my phone tightly, suppressing the sadness in my heart. I then calmly ended the conversation.

"Thank you, Isla," I said.

Someone once told me that a man's promises are like a pile of loose sand.

Until I met Dylan, I believed there were exceptions in life. I still do. I don't believe he would betray me.

Dylan was always generous with me. Whatever I wanted would appear in front of me before I even asked.

Whenever we had conflicts, Dylan would appropriately give me the gifts I liked to apologize.

That was one of his charms.

That day, I received another gift from Dylan. It was a small, pink shoulder bag.

The design was trendy and bold.

It was from a well-known international brand, and it wasn't cheap.

I stood in front of the mirror. I wore the bag for a long time, finally forcing myself to accept the gift.

[The gift is very creative. I like it.] I texted Dylan.

I included a picture of myself wearing the bag in the message.

I considered this gift as Dylan's apology for wasting my efforts yesterday.

Even though it wasn't exactly my taste, I accepted it.

He replied in less than five minutes: [I'm glad you like it.]

Carrying the new bag Dylan had given me, I spontaneously decided to go to his office.

Before leaving, I picked out an outfit that matched the bag.

I stood in front of the mirror for a long time, feeling like I was back in my college days.

It had been a long time since I visited Dylan's company. Everything seemed unchanged. I greeted the receptionist with ease and headed upstairs to find Dylan.

A few years ago, I worked as Dylan's assistant for a while.

We were like lovers in a passionate relationship. We couldn't bear to be apart, even at work.

Although Dylan took on most of the work, I was still clumsy and couldn't do things right.

During a negotiation with a partner company, everything was originally well-prepared.

But I accidentally brought the wrong project report, leaving Dylan in an awkward position when he should have had the upper hand.

To close the deal, Dylan had to make concessions, giving up three percent.

"I'm sorry. My mistake cost you so much money."

Knowing I had made a mistake, I kept my head down. I was too afraid to meet his gaze.

Dylan seemed extremely angry. He left me standing by the desk, silent and ignoring me.

I held my breath and cautiously tried to steal a glance at him.

Suddenly, he appeared in front of me.

I was startled, and as I looked up at him, he gently kissed my cheek.

He caressed my face and softly said, "Gianna, you never need to apologize to me for anything."

At that moment, a smile spread across his face. His words were full of genuine warmth.

It was as if his entire heart and soul were focused on me.

His words hit me straight in the heart, making me feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

But it seemed that fate didn't want me to have it too easy.

It first gave me sweetness, only to take it back at the right moment.

Just to mock my initial choice.

I peeked through the crack in the door and saw the scene in the office.

It felt like I was being forced to confront the truth, with no chance to escape.

At that moment, the choice I had clung to suddenly shattered.

Dylan's new secretary was pretty and sweet-looking. She was dressed in a white dress.

She had an innocent, naive look, yet with a hint of arrogance.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Rogers. I accidentally mixed the bag you gave me with the one for your wife..."

She stood by Dylan, clutching his sleeve.

She sounded like she was apologizing, but it felt more like she was pouting.

"It's fine. You can switch to the pink one you like."

Dylan responded calmly and didn't stop her actions.

Suddenly, as if sensing something, he turned and glanced towards the door.

I quickly dodged, breaking into a cold sweat.

Dylan was the one having an affair, yet I felt more nervous than he did.

Deep down, I had a feeling. Subconsciously, I didn't want to confront it.

I kept avoiding it until I finally saw it. I had to admit that Dylan was cheating.

I had imagined something like this before. With Dylan's status and position, it was inevitable that many women would be interested in him.

I was immersed in his affection. I constantly told myself that if he ever had someone else, I would immediately leave.

But when the moment came, it felt like my heart was torn apart.

I couldn't just walk away. I could only patch things up by myself.

Enduring the pain, I tried to stitch my shattered heart back together, one painful stitch at a time.

The next afternoon, I arranged to meet with Dylan's new secretary alone.

The secretary, named Ella Wright, was polite and courteous in front of me.

She didn't seem like the same woman who had almost been clinging to Dylan yesterday.

"Ella, you're only twenty-two, the best age. I'm sure many people are pursuing you," I said.

She sat upright in her chair. When she heard my words, she seemed a bit uneasy.

"Mrs. Rogers, you're too kind. I don't have a boyfriend," Ella replied, trying to stay composed.

"Ella, you should find a boyfriend soon. Focusing your attention on your boss might not lead to a good outcome," I said, cutting straight to the point.

I couldn't stand her pretense of calmness, so I laid it out plainly.

Ella's expression instantly changed, as if she was startled by my words.

She wasn't paying attention. When she turned, the corner of a small pink shoulder bag peeked out from behind her.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Rogers. I have something else to do. I need to leave," Ella said.

It was as if something she had been hiding for a long time had finally been exposed. She looked flustered and was already on her feet, ready to leave.

Seeing her trying to leave, I immediately grabbed her. I accidentally pulled open the shoulder bag on her shoulder.

The contents spilled all over the floor.

A delicate, small perfume bottle shattered into pieces.

In an instant, the air was filled with a familiar, sweet fragrance.

A soaked ultrasound report lay beneath the scattered items.

Holding my breath, I anxiously picked up the examination report from the floor and stared at it for a long time. Finally, unable to contain my anger, I slapped Ella across the face.

"You're very lucky, Ella. The baby is almost six weeks old..." I said. My voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Not giving her a chance to react, I grabbed her hair and dragged her back with force.

I ignored her pained pleas for mercy.

I picked up the drink from the table, ready to throw it in her face.

Suddenly, a strong force grabbed me and shoved me back hard.

"Gianna, have you had enough?" Dylan shouted. His grip was firm.

The force was strong. In my panic, I stumbled back a couple of steps.

My lower back hit the edge of a chair, sending a sharp pain through my body.

The glass in my hand slipped and shattered on the floor.

"Dylan, who exactly is making a scene here?" I shouted. My voice was shaking with fury.

My face turned pale as I watched him protect Ella in his arms. I completely lost my composure.

I grabbed another glass from the table and threw it at him. My voice was hoarse with anger as I yelled, "You got her pregnant, and you're still treating me like this!"

He didn't dodge in time and only managed to protect the person in his arms. The glass hit the left side of his forehead, leaving a deep cut.

Blood started streaming down his face.

Seeing the blood running down Dylan's face, I suddenly snapped out of my rage and rushed forward to help stop the bleeding.

"Dylan, I'm sorry, I..."

Before I could reach out, Dylan pulled Ella back several steps. He covered his forehead. His face was cold and distant.

"Gianna, calm down. This isn't Ella's fault," Dylan said. His voice was stern and detached.

After hearing his words, I froze in place.

The unspoken truth was suddenly exposed, and my careful efforts to protect our marriage became a joke.

All of this, I could have pretended not to know...

Ella hid behind Dylan, not daring to look at me.

"Mr. Rogers, I'll clean up the floor first. The scent of the perfume is quite strong," Ella said, trying to change the subject as she crouched down to clean.

Ella covered her nose, crouching down to clean up. Dylan quickly pulled her up.

"You're pregnant. It wouldn't be good if you hurt yourself. Let's go outside first," Dylan said.

Without even a glance at me, Dylan wrapped his arm around Ella and started to leave.

"Wait!"

I called out to them in a hoarse voice.