Chapter 3

I was shaken awake by Elena the next morning.

There were no affectionate morning kisses. She stood by the bed, putting on her earrings, her brow still tightly furrowed as if carrying over last night's impatience into today.

"Get up and get ready. Before you donate the bone marrow, I’ll take you to that charity banquet you've always wanted to go to. That should be enough, right?"

I sat up, my head still a bit groggy.

Seeing that I wasn't moving, Elena assumed I was still throwing a fit over yesterday.

She sighed, pulled a document from her briefcase, and tossed it onto the nightstand.

"Sign this before we go to the banquet."

I glanced at it. Divorce papers.

Elena's tone was matter-of-fact, laced with a condescending sense of charity. "Liam's emotional state is very unstable. The doctor says he needs to be kept happy before the surgery. He's always felt that I would neglect him because of you, so to reassure him... obviously, this is just to make sure the surgery goes smoothly."

Seeing my silence, she softened her voice, sat on the edge of the bed, and tried to pat my hand, but I smoothly evaded her touch.

Her hand froze in mid-air and she awkwardly pulled it back, her tone turning stiff: "Aaron, don't be so unreasonable. It's just a formality. Once you're done donating the marrow and Liam's surgery is successful, we can remarry anytime. I'm taking you to this banquet, you ought to make a compromise too, right?"

It was always like this.

The same familiar logic: Because I am giving you a piece of candy, you must first take a slap to the face.

The Aaron who would have laid awake all night agonizing over this piece of paper seemed to be dead.

Looking at this agreement now, I only felt that the clauses weren't rigorous enough.

"Where's the pen?" I asked.

Elena was clearly stunned. She had prepared a stomach full of rhetoric to placate me or morally blackmail me, but now it was all stuck in her throat.

"Aren't you... going to read the terms?"

"No need." I picked up the pen and fluidly signed the name 'Aaron Ward' on the paper. "Let's just get this over with quickly."

On the way to the banquet, Elena kept glancing at me through the rearview mirror.

The venue was filled with glamorous people; it was the top vanity fair of London's legal and business circles.

Not long after entering, Elena's phone vibrated. She glanced at the screen and her expression changed—it was Liam's custom ringtone.

"Liam isn't feeling well and keeps crying," Elena said, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration after hanging up. "I have to go video call him and calm him down. Stay right here and wait for me. Don't wander off, and don't embarrass me."

With that, she shoved a pre-prepared glass of champagne into my hand and turned to walk toward the VIP-only lounge.

Holding the cold glass, I stood amid the noisy crowd and watched her hurried back.

Suddenly, I felt a bit dizzy.

I thought back to eight years ago.

Back then, I was still in the university's architecture club, and Elena was the star student of the finance department.

During an inter-departmental collaborative competition, her project was flawless. She pressed me aggressively, tearing my design into pieces.

But the moment the competition ended, that lively, confident girl pushed through the crowd, blushing as she asked for my number.

At that time, I was the true young master who had just been brought back to the Beckett family—sensitive, insecure, and completely out of place in this glamorous circle.

It was Elena who held my hand and integrated me into this world.

Back then, she would search the city like a madwoman if I didn't reply to a text. She would queue for three hours to buy a limited-out-of-print vinyl record just because I mentioned I liked it.

But what about after?

After, she met Liam.

That frail, pale younger brother who always needed to be taken care of.

Without realizing when it started, I became the person who was always "waiting."

I waited for her outside concert halls with two voided tickets in my hands when she was late; I waited for her at the restaurant on our anniversary until the waiters closed up; I waited up countless nights with a single light on until she returned from Liam's hospital room.

It felt like my entire life had been spent waiting.

Waiting for my parents to give me a little bit of the love they gave my brother. Waiting for my wife to direct a fraction of the attention she gave him toward me. Waiting for my daughter to spare some of her dependence on her uncle for her father.

But this time, I wasn't going to wait.

I placed the untouched champagne glass onto a passing waiter's tray and turned toward the exit.

Elena's male secretary was guarding the door. Seeing me leave, he stopped me in surprise. "Sir? Mrs. Ward asked you to wait for her inside..."

"No need." I pulled my trench coat tighter and pushed open the heavy doors. The cold wind outside rushed in, but it made me feel a sense of liberation I had never felt before.

"Tell her I'm done waiting."

That capsule had already excised the tumor called "expectation."

I walked far away. Looking back at the brightly lit banquet hall, I felt nothing but relief.

Half an hour later, Elena walked out of the lounge with a dark expression. She had finally managed to soothe Liam.

She looked around but didn't see that familiar figure.

"Where's Aaron?" she asked the waiting secretary. "Did he go to the restroom? Or is he sulking in a corner somewhere?"

The secretary's expression was strange, as if he didn't know how to phrase it.

"Sir... he already left."

"Left?" Elena's volume spiked in disbelief. "How dare he leave? Did he throw a tantrum? Did he run out with red eyes?"

In her mind, that was the reaction Aaron should have had.

Feeling wronged because of being neglected, filling with resentment from being ignored, so that when she offered a little sweet talk later, he would obediently come running back.

The secretary hesitated, but told the truth.

"No, ma'am. When sir left... not only was he not angry, he looked... "

"Looked what?"

"He looked very relaxed. As if... he had been set free."

Elena froze, the wine glass in her hand shaking, spilling a few drops onto the expensive carpet.

That's impossible, she thought.

How could Aaron feel relaxed? Could he ever leave her?

An inexplicable chill crawled up her spine, even more intense than the panic she had felt in the car the night before.

For the first time, she felt as if things had completely slipped from her control.