Chapter 5

After returning home from his business trip, Peter felt that something in the house had changed. However, since Frost often liked to rearrange the decor, he didn't think much of it and handed her a gift. "My work's finally settled down for now. I can take three days off to spend with you. Where do you want to go? Getting out a bit would be good for your health." Frost froze in shock. All these years, he had never once taken the initiative to accompany her anywhere. The countless travel plans she'd once made so eagerly had all been canceled because of the same excuse—too busy, no time. The rejection that had long since become a reflex rose to her lips. However, in her mind, she saw again those itineraries she'd crafted with such care. They carried five whole years of her unwillingness to give up. After some time, she said quietly, "Let's drive to the seaside. I like the beach." If this miserable marriage was going to end, she at least wanted it to end with some grace. She unwrapped the gift box. It was a luxurious Louis Vuitton cashmere shawl. The color wasn't remotely her style, but she draped it over her shoulders anyway, playing along. Peter followed her request and drove a sleek coupe. Halfway along the highway, his phone chimed with a special notification. "Pete, I twisted my ankle. It hurts so much." Without hesitation, he called Melanie immediately and changed the GPS route. Frost's gaze caught on his screen. There was a location tracker on it. She searched online and realized it was a couple's app. At this point, did it even matter whether he had physically crossed the line and cheated on her? Her head pounded. She rolled down the window and let the cold wind rush in, trying to drive away the rising storm inside her. "Peter, I don't ask anything of you. You're the one who offered to take me on this trip, so at least follow through. It'll take you two hours to turn back. Do you expect me to waste my entire morning in your car like this? My body can't take it. Send someone else—" "I don't trust anyone else," he interrupted calmly. Frost was at a loss for words. Her eyes burned. A sprained ankle, and he didn't trust anyone else to care for Melanie. However, all those years Frost had suffered high fevers alone, the fear of a knife at her throat, the car accident… What were those to him? Was that proof that she was tough enough to survive without his concern? "Pete, I'm so sorry to trouble you again." When they picked up Melanie, Peter helped her into the car. Frost glanced over and froze. Melanie was wearing the exact same shawl. Only hers was in a prettier shade, the very color Frost had always liked. "Peter, who picked this shawl for me?" Frost asked slowly. Melanie answered softly before he could, "Ms. Quinn, do you not like yours? There were only two left at the boutique. I thought since you're a bit older, you might prefer something more mature, so I picked the brighter one for myself." She smiled with false remorse. "Would you like to swap?" Frost ignored her. Her burning gaze stayed locked on Peter. "So, you gave me what she didn't want? What am I? Your garbage bin?" She tore the shawl off and threw it out the window. Melanie flinched, shrinking back into her seat. Peter patted her shoulder gently. "It's alright." After buckling her in, he took the driver's seat again and commented in a flat voice, "It's just a color difference. You blow everything out of proportion. It's no wonder you're never happy." For a long time, Frost remained silent. Then, she let out a dry laugh. "So, you can tell that I'm unhappy, huh." He noticed, but he never cared. The car detoured to the hospital. … By the time Melanie came out with her ankle bandaged, the whole morning was gone. Frost's planned trip hadn't even begun. "Let's have lunch first. Melanie's hungry. You probably are, too." Then, turning to the back seat, Peter asked Melanie, "What do you want? Hyrunese cuisine? Or Shimmian cuisine?" She giggled and answered coyly, "Pete, how do you still remember what I like to eat? You're amazing!" He smiled faintly. "It's not hard to remember, if you care enough." That smile was like a blade that cut straight through Frost's heart. Melanie continued asking, "Then, do you remember what I like to drink?" "Fresh orange juice." "My favorite fruit?" "Jackfruit." "My favorite way to cook ribs?" "Braised. What about Ms. Quinn? How does she like hers?" All of a sudden, Peter hesitated. Frost's tone turned icy. "Get a room if you two want to flirt. Don't do it in the car and make me sick." He frowned. "Is it really all you ever think about? Dirty suspicions? Melanie's like a sister to me." Melanie's eyes turned red. "I'm sorry, Ms. Quinn. I didn't mean to make you misunderstand. I… I'll stop talking. Pete, pull over and let me out. I'm not that hungry." Peter shot Frost a look of reproach. Then, with a firm tone, he insisted, "It's lunchtime. We'll all eat together." Frost folded her arms. "Fine. I want Illuvine cuisine." This time, he didn't refuse. … He drove to an Illuvine restaurant, but when they arrived, he didn't get out. "Melanie doesn't like Illuvine food. Her foot hurts. She needs someone to take care of her. I'll go have some Shimmian cuisine with her first, then pick you up after."