After hanging up the phone, Clara began packing. She carefully placed her old trophies and dance shoes into her suitcase, then threw away all the loose, oversized clothes in her closet. For seven years, she had given up her dreams for her family, sacrificed herself for her children, only to be met with disdain and betrayal in return. Now, she was going to live for herself.
Halfway through tidying up, there was a knock on the door, and Liam walked in. He saw the trophy in the box, paused for a moment, and asked in confusion, "What's this? When did you get something like this?"
Clara looked at him and suddenly felt incredibly ironic. He had actually forgotten that this was her proudest achievement, something he had once held dear and flaunted to everyone. She didn't answer, only saying lightly, "Nothing, just some useless old stuff."
Liam didn't ask any more questions. His gaze fell on her packed luggage, and he frowned: "Where are you going?"
" Just tidying up some old things that I don't need anymore ," Clara said calmly .
"Liam, come here for a second... " Vanessa's voice called from outside. Liam didn't ask me again, turned around and went out the door.
I watched Liam 's departing figure and gave a self-deprecating smile.
The door was gently pushed open, and Lila tiptoed in, carrying a glass of milk.
“It was wrong of you to disturb my piano practice today.” Lila raised her chin slightly, her tone carrying an arrogance beyond her years, much like how Liam spoke to her. “Drink this, and I will forgive you.”
She turned her head and handed over the milk, but deliberately avoided looking at Clara's face, as if looking at her for even a second would offend her eyes.
Clara's fingers tightened slightly as she gripped her phone, a bitter feeling rising in her heart.
She remembered that when Lila was three years old, she would run over with milk in the same way, only then the child would softly call "Mommy feed me," rest her chin on her knees, stare into her eyes and say "Mommy is the prettiest."
But now, the little dumpling who used to cling to her has become the one who hates her the most.
She wanted to refuse, but then she thought of her three-year-old daughter and that this might be the last time she would drink milk poured by her daughter, so she eventually took the cup.
The milk was slightly cool to the taste, with a strange, cloying sweetness. Clara frowned, but still forced herself to drink it down.
She thought that even if it was the last time, she wanted to preserve some of the warmth between mother and daughter.
That night, Clara was trapped in a hazy, half-awake state.
The bedroom door wasn't closed properly, and Liam's voice, mixed with suggestive breathing, drifted in, clear as if right next to his ear: "That waist... it's so damn thin... Teacher Vanessa, you're even more alluring than when she wore a dance dress back in the day..." This was followed by the rhythmic rustling of fabric and Vanessa's soft, sweet laughter: "Mr. Liam, be gentle... Lila's still in the next room..."
Clara spent a chaotic night, unsure whether it was a dream or reality. Her heart felt like it had been struck by a heavy hammer, the pain almost suffocating her.
She vaguely remembered that seven years ago, Liam had whispered the same thing in her ear, saying that her waist when she danced Swan Lake was "God's masterpiece" and that he would give her the best things in the world.
But now, his sweet words are given to someone else, his tenderness to someone else, and even the desire he once showed only to her has become a knife stabbing her.
The next afternoon, Clara was woken up by her cell phone ringing.
A strong wave of dizziness washed over her. She propped herself up on the headboard, her head feeling heavy as if it were filled with lead. She raised her hand to touch her forehead, and the burning heat made her heart clench.
I turned on my phone, and the screen showed 3 PM.
Married for seven years, she has been getting up at six o'clock every day to make breakfast in order to take care of Lila, and has never slept for so long. Even when her wound became infected after giving birth to Lila, she forced herself to get up and breastfeed the baby. Now she is sleeping so soundly, which is unusual and makes people uneasy.
"Awake?" Liam's voice came from the other end of the phone, with Vanessa's laughter and Lila's chatter in the background. "You said you were tired last night, so I didn't wake you and let you sleep a little longer." His tone was perfunctory concern, as if he were talking to an unimportant servant.
"I'll go to the kitchen tonight to prepare a few dishes. Lila and I will come back to eat, and Vanessa will also be there."
Clara rubbed her throbbing temples, her voice hoarse: "I don't remember having a piano lesson today, why did she come?"
There was a pause on the other end of the phone, followed by Vanessa's sweet voice: "Mr. Liam, Lila said she wants to play hide-and-seek with us. If Clara isn't happy about it, I won't go..." The grievance in her voice was like a fine needle, precisely stirring up Liam's emotions.
Liam's patience ran out instantly, and her tone became impatient: "Just prepare when I tell you to, why all this nonsense? Lila wants Vanessa to come, can't you, as her mother, just go along with her? We'll talk about the rest when we get home."
