Since he'd started the company, he'd been run off his feet, too busy to string two sentences together with me, let alone cook for me.
Just then the bedroom door flew open.
Janet rushed in, wearing a slightly awkward smile.
"Mr. Mason, why did you give Rosa the noodles I didn't finish?"
"Rosa, don't eat them. I have a cold. I don't want to pass it to you."
I poked at the noodles, saw the half-bitten egg sitting in the bowl, and my stomach turned. I dropped to my knees beside the trash can and gagged.
Even the noodles he'd brought me were secondhand.
Janet hurried over and patted my back.
"Don't be upset, Rosa. Mr. Mason only gave them to you because he didn't want them to go to waste."
James gave a cold snort. "Leave her be. Spoiled little princesses like her are just precious about everything."
"Rosamond, if you can't stomach a bowl of leftover noodles, what are you going to do about the hundred tables of leftovers from the wedding banquet?"
Janet chimed in soothingly. "Rosa, maybe you don't know this, but leftovers are perfectly safe to eat once they've been heated through."
"I promise it won't embarrass you."
James nodded his approval. "Janet really does know how to run a thrifty home."
"Pity some people will never learn."
I can't learn. And I don't want to anymore.
My phone chimed.
That person had sent over the wedding banquet menu.
A sixteen-course international tasting menu, with cold dishes, hot soups, and desserts all accounted for.
At the bottom, a single line:
【Not enough? Tell me what else you want and I'll have the private chef add it.】
A man I'd never even met could be this thoughtful.
Set side by side, it was almost cruel.
When night fell, James actually carried Janet over and laid her down beside me, on the bridal bed.
Even though I'd already decided to leave, seeing the two of them so close still sent a sharp ache through my chest.
"Rosamond, what's with that look?"
"Things have gotten this far, and you're still throwing a jealous fit?"
James pulled the blanket up over Janet, his eyes full of tenderness.
"Janet's running a fever. She can barely stand, so I had to carry her to the bed."
"If you don't want to sleep next to her, go to the couch."
Janet struggled to sit up. "Leave the master bedroom to the two of you. I'll be fine on the couch."
James pressed her back down onto the bed, and his cold gaze swept over me.
"Rosamond, are you going to the couch or not?"
"Back in college, when you were sick, Janet carried you down five flights of stairs."
"Now she has a cold, and you can't even be bothered to look after her!"
It was the dorm head who'd carried me down those five flights. Since when did that become her good deed?
I said nothing more and walked straight out of the master bedroom.
I sat down on the couch and looked around the room.
Discount-app price-match coupons were scattered across the floor.
On the plant stand sat the secondhand porcelain Janet had dug up somewhere.
Even the toilet had been swapped out for a used one.
James used to praise my taste in design again and again.
Now nearly everything that was mine had been hauled away, and all that remained was that bed, loaded with the memory of our nights together.
And even it now carried someone else's scent.
James came out of the master bedroom and walked straight into me, my face streaming with tears.
"It's not that serious, is it? I'm only looking after your best friend for you. Is that worth crying over?"
I wiped at my eyes and realized I hadn't even known I was crying.
"James, let's break up."
"Mr. Mason! I'm hungry!"
He didn't catch the part where I said break up, and answered the call into the kitchen.
I stood in front of the mirror in the living room. The wound at my temple was still seeping blood.
The injury was right there, plain to see, and yet he was so wrapped up in Janet's cold he never asked about it once.
Right on cue, my phone pushed a new post to my feed.
