Nathan's POV
Cassandra casually picked up a bottle of wine before answering, “Nathan and I are basically an old married couple already. He doesn’t care about this kind of stuff. But Daniel is different. He’s alone in another city, with no one around him. He needs a little extra warmth.”
As I listened to them, I stood outside the door, my chest turning cold.
Most of my paycheck went straight into Cassandra’s hands every month, and the furniture in our wedding home had been collected piece by piece after I scoured every discount store in the city.
I still remembered one time, I had my eyes on a sofa worth over two thousand yuan, but she immediately pulled a face.
“Two thousand? For a sofa? Can’t you just sit on the floor?”
In the end, she picked another one. But when she paid, she looked annoyed, although the receipt only read over two hundred.
Turned out, she could be this generous, just never with me.
On the drive home, I rolled the windows down all the way, and the wind whipped across my face, stinging like knives.
Three years.
I couldn't believe I’d been a fool for three whole years.
When I first told her I wanted to design our home myself, she wrapped her arms around my neck and said yes.
At that moment, I really believed she had me in her heart.
She remembered, she had to remember.
That day when the street punk came at her with a knife, I didn’t hesitate and stepped in front of her. While the blade missed my heart by just one centimeter, I was in a coma for three days and nights. She cried at my bedside back then, swearing she’d love me forever.
But she hadn’t kept that in her heart.
Or maybe, to her, that scar was just a reason to live recklessly, knowing I’d never stop protecting her.
The doctor once warned me that too much stress could tug at the nerves around that old wound. So I tilted my head back, trying to swallow down the bitterness, but my chest still felt unbearably heavy.
Just then, my phone buzzed. It was Cassandra with loud rock music blasting in the background.
“Nathan, the girls are throwing me a ‘single-life farewell’ party tonight. Go to bed early, don’t wait up.”
I paused for two seconds before noting, “Alright.”
By three in the morning, I still couldn’t sleep, so I scrolled through social media.
There, I saw Rachel had posted a photo set with the caption: [Cheers to my bestie’s last night of freedom!]
The center photo in the collage showed Daniel, grinning smugly, holding his car keys just high enough to show off the Ferrari logo like a lighter’s spark.
Meanwhile, Cassandra was practically hanging off him, her body pressed to his side. His other hand rested firmly on her waist.
The comments section was blown up.
[Damn, isn’t that the Ferrari SF90? That’s insane!]
]These two look perfect together. What a shame.]
[@Cassandra girl, better be careful. Don’t let Nathan see this!]
Cassandra herself chimed in.
[Nathan isn’t that petty. If he’s going to throw a fit over this, then maybe we shouldn’t get married at all.]
After reading her reply, I shut off my phone, expressionless.
She knew exactly how far she could push me. She knew I’d swallow the pain when she sold our house. She knew I’d keep quiet when she bought Daniel a car worth half a million. She knew I’d accept every excuse of ‘we’re just friends.’
But this time, the scar in my chest didn’t ache anymore.
Because I was done.
I didn’t want to endure it any longer.
The next day, I went to the hospital for a check-up alone.
“How many times have I told you? On rainy days, the wound aches. You need someone with you to hold the bandage, to make sure you apply the medicine properly.”
The doctor scolded me helplessly, but I could only force a smile. “I’m a grown man. I’ll manage.”
Not long after I left the hospital, the skies split open with a downpour.
Quickly, I ducked into a small corner bistro to get out of the rain. But when I looked up, I froze.
There was Daniel, leaning forward, smiling ear to ear, holding out a spoon.
And right then, Cassandra leaned across the table and took a bite of the cheesy corn he fed her.
