Chapter 3

“Sign.” I flipped the document to the last page, covered the beginning, and handed it to him. My voice was so light it was almost inaudible.

He skimmed it, probably assuming it was yet another deed for jewelry or property that I wanted, eager to end this farce as soon as possible. He signed without even looking.

After signing, he lifted his head and said to me, “Agnes isn’t well. There’s no one in her family to care for her. She’ll stay here a few days.”

I nodded numbly. “As you wish.”

I picked up the document and left without looking back.

My notary emailed me: “The text of the divorce agreement has been proofread by counsel. Please come to the office on Wednesday to sign; we will keep a duplicate on file.”

I printed the PDF in that email and slipped it into a kraft envelope—this paper was as thin as our marriage certificate had been, yet so heavy I could hardly hold it. I clenched the document until my fingertips went white.

Finally… it was going to end.

That night, when I returned to the villa, laughter was floating out of the living room.

Agnes was sitting on the sofa with Kay and Chuck nestled on either side of her, listening to her tell a story.

“…In the end, the prince’s kiss woke the princess, and they lived happily ever after.” She gently stroked the two children’s heads.

Kay tipped up his face. “Aunt Agnes, you’re much gentler than Mom.”

Chuck nodded. “I really wish you were my mom…”

I stood at the door, my heart feeling as if a knife had been driven straight through it.

Expressionless, I went upstairs, into the guest room’s bathroom to shower. Warm water washed over my body, yet could not rinse away the chill in my chest. I closed my eyes and thought: Don’t worry—this wish of yours will come true very soon.

I had barely lain down when the other side of the bed suddenly sank.

Lydon had finished his shower and lay down beside me.

I faced away from him, motionless.

Suddenly, he leaned toward me, an arm circling my waist, his thin lips brushing the nape of my neck.

My whole body went rigid; I shoved him away hard!

He frowned. “I’ve already given you the compensation you wanted. Your brother didn’t suffer any real harm either. How long are you going to keep this up?”

I was just about to speak—

“Knock, knock, knock!”

The door was rapped on; Kay poked his little head in. “Dad! The forecast says there’ll be thunder tonight. Didn’t you say Aunt Agnes is most afraid of thunder?”

Chuck squeezed in as well. “Dad, come keep Aunt Agnes company! She’s scared!”

He glanced at the gloomy sky outside without a second thought and got up. As he left, he tossed back, “You sleep by yourself tonight.”

The door wasn’t properly closed; happy voices from the room next door drifted over.

“Lydon, you’re here?” Agnes’s voice was soft.

“Dad! The stories Aunt Agnes tells are amazing!” Kay said excitedly.

Chuck wheedled, “Dad, can Aunt Agnes stay here forever?”

He chuckled low. “All right.”

Lying in bed, I listened to their laughter and slowly closed my eyes.

The next morning, as I went downstairs, peals of laughter came from the kitchen.

Lydon, wearing an apron, stood at the counter, his long fingers holding a spatula; Agnes stood beside him, now and then leaning in to sniff the aroma, her eyes curving like crescent moons.

Kay and Chuck were circling their legs, faces tipped up, chattering away.

“Lydon, I didn’t expect you to still remember the flavors I like after all these years.” Her voice was soft, tinged with emotion.

He turned his head to look at her with a tenderness he had never given me. “I’ve never forgotten for a single moment.”

He plated an egg and slid it in front of her. “Try it—see if the taste has changed.”

She took a bite and her brows smoothed. “Even better than before.”

Kay shot up his hand. “Aunt Agnes, when Dad’s busy, I’ll cook for you!”

Chuck hopped along to chime in. “I’ll learn too! I’ll make it even better than Dad does!”

She laughed, rubbing the two kids’ heads; watching them, even Lydon’s stern features softened into a smile.

I stood at the top of the stairs and tugged at the corner of my mouth in self-mockery.

All these years, because he was from the Moscato family, his standards of living were sky-high, and the two children had been proud and picky since small. I had always served this household with scrupulous care.

Turns out…

A man like him, whose fingers had never so much as dipped in spring water, could cook for the woman he loved.

Children like Kay and Chuck, so pampered and willful, could be this thoughtful.

Before them I was as humble as dust, yet they would all gladly bend for Agnes.

The one who loves first, loses completely.