Chapter 9

The tears she had just managed to hold back suddenly poured out, streaming down her cheeks uncontrollably. She quickly turned her head, staring at the tall figure walking from the entryway into the living room. Her chest ached, like something had torn right through it. It had been three whole years since she last felt this kind of gentleness. But back when they hadn’t married yet, he used to treat her just like this—so incredibly well. He was the one who bought her first box of pads. The one who sat her down and talked her through what was happening without making it awkward. He made her tea—chamomile, with a little honey—and told her it might help with the cramps. He'd been there for so many of her firsts, quietly, like it was nothing. And now? Their relationship wasn’t even as close as strangers. She regretted it. If only she hadn’t acted on impulse three years ago, maybe neither of them would be stuck in this kind of pain. She loved him, but couldn’t get close. He felt trapped, unable to break free. “I’ve decided to let go, William… You’ll be free from me soon. I’m giving your freedom back.” Elsie’s voice was barely audible, so soft even she could hardly hear it. William seemed to sense something and glanced over toward the stairs. Not seeing anyone, he looked away again. Looking around the room, he finally noticed the house didn’t look quite how he remembered designing it. He’d barely been back a handful of times in the past three years—this was probably the first time he seriously looked at what should’ve been home. The expensive antiques in the cabinets were gone, replaced with quirky little trinkets that were a bit of a mess. But oddly enough, it felt warm. He reached for a mug on the table. It was shaped like a little snowgirl in a red scarf—sweet and delicate. Just like Elsie. Every winter, she’d show up in soft wool coats and light scarves, her cheeks pink from the cold. Her skin was pale, and her hands always turned red when she forgot her gloves. She would just look at him quietly, waiting for him to come over and warm her fingers, and when he did, she’d offer a shy little smile and whisper, “Thanks, Will.” William ran his fingers along it, his eyes darkening. He suddenly realized he was feeling a bit thirsty. Right on cue, Lisa Smith came over with a glass of water. When she saw what he was holding, she said, “That one’s madam’s cup. Yours, the matching one, is in the cabinet. I can clean and sanitize it tomorrow if you like. But it’s been sitting for years… Maybe I should just get a new one?” William followed her gaze toward a glass cabinet diagonally across from the couch. There it was—a snowman cup just like the one in his hand, quietly lying among other strange little ornaments he couldn’t even figure out the purpose of, clearly picked out by Elsie herself. Everything in there looked untouched, but spotless—someone had been cleaning them regularly. Still, to William, it all felt like it was covered in invisible dust. Just like Elsie herself—no matter how much he tried to wipe it away, he couldn’t reach through. He suddenly recalled the way she'd looked at him since they got married. Always so sorrowful. No matter how he looked at her now, that sweet smile she used to flash at him—that was gone for good. Annoyed, William yanked off his tie and took a sip of water straight from her cup. “No need. I’ll just use this one.” A few minutes later. Lisa had finished making the lemon tea, and as she passed by, William stopped her. “You can go get some rest. I’ll take it up to her.” As he spoke, he took the cup from her hands and headed upstairs. Lisa turned off the lights and went to her room without a word, but she couldn’t stop wondering to herself—Wasn’t Mr. Harding supposed to not like Elsie? He barely showed up here in three years. Why’s he suddenly acting all caring? William knocked on Elsie’s door with the tea in hand. “Lisa made you some lemon tea. Drink it before sleeping.” No response from inside. He waited a few seconds, then knocked again, a little harder. “Elsie?” Before he could finish, the not-fully-shut door creaked open, revealing Elsie asleep on the desk inside. His heart instantly softened. He stepped forward, ready to set down the cup and lift her onto the bed. Elsie was clutching a torn photo in her hand, her fair face still streaked with dried tears. In the photo, she was leaning close to Liam Harding on the left. And on the right... William’s gaze darkened once more. He ended up fishing out the missing half—his half—from the trash. Staring at it, his grip on the cup nearly shattered it. "You really love him that much? "Three years… and I don't even get a corner of your heart?" The night was silent, nobody to answer him. He stood in the shadow of the floor lamp, watching her for a long time, his eyes glued to the redness at the corners of her eyes, filled with a kind of obsessive intensity. Finally, a soft sigh slipped through the darkness. He leaned down and gently lifted her up, laying her back onto the bed with care. “Elsie…” The shadows on the wall stretched long and blurred under the light. One figure leaned down, like a cloud sinking low, covering the curve of the bed. No one could tell how long passed before the two shadows slowly came apart. Morning. Still dazed, Elsie smacked her lips and immediately frowned. Her mouth was full of lemon—it felt like she’d sucked on a whole lemon wedge in her sleep. She opened her eyes in a fog, finding herself face-to-face with William, close enough to see the flutter of his long lashes. She hadn’t had a drop of alcohol last night, so how the hell...? Just then, the man beside her suddenly opened his eyes without warning. Their gazes locked. Elsie instantly sobered and jerked back like she’d been shocked, sitting up straight in a flash. Noticing her pajamas were still on, she finally let out a relieved breath. William didn’t miss a thing. Watching her flushed ears, he smirked and teased, “What? You seem disappointed nothing happened.” “I’m not! Don’t be ridiculous!” Her face turned scarlet. “Ridiculous?” He raised an eyebrow, amused. “Then who was it last night clinging to me like an octopus, huh? I could barely move.” Elsie wanted to argue. But she wasn’t even sure herself—maybe she thought she was dreaming, back in the old days when hugging him felt natural. Since the divorce was just around the corner, she didn’t want to stir up drama. After a pause, she lowered her head and apologized sincerely. “Sorry... I must’ve moved a lot in my sleep. I didn’t mean to bother you.” William’s smirk faded. Suddenly, it all felt really dull. He sat up and looked at her. “So, only Aiden or Liam can make you smile? I’m just some tragic figure in your story?” Elsie looked at him, puzzled. What did that have to do with Aiden or Liam? But William didn’t explain. He just got up and walked out of the room. Elsie sat there still, her mind spinning. Downstairs, Lisa Smith had just come out with a tray when she saw William. She smiled and said, “Breakfast’s ready, just in time.” William glanced at the toast and jam on the table, and his expression instantly darkened. “That’s what you made her for breakfast?” Lisa’s smile stiffened. “I’ve been serving it like this the past three years. She never said anything…” The thought of Elsie eating this for three whole years made his face cloud over even more. “She didn’t say anything because she didn’t want to trouble you.” His tone turned icy. “Didn’t Eric give you the checklist I made your first day here?” Only then did Lisa remember—yes, Eric had handed her a thick stack of notes. Packed like a book. That was from William? He hadn’t even been home this whole time, and Elsie had always been easygoing. She’d never even looked through that thing. Now, seeing the storm brewing in William’s expression, Lisa couldn’t help but shiver internally. Everyone always said William disliked Elsie, but if he hated her so much, why note down all her preferences and dislikes like a manual? He probably knew her better than she knew herself. That didn’t look like hate at all.