The remaining warmth in my heart completely cooled in the cold wind of a foreign country.
On the day I returned home, as soon as I exited the gate, I was surrounded by countless flashes of light and microphones.
My imprisonment abroad had become a public scandal.
After finally escaping the encirclement and returning home, Felix Shaw’s first words were reproach.
“How many times have I told you to wear a white coat outside? Why didn’t you listen?”
He frowned, his tone like he was scolding an ignorant child. “You knew I’m face-blind and couldn’t tell a woman’s face apart.”
I clenched my fists. He flipped through another page and, without even looking up, issued his second directive: “The PR department has prepared a draft; a press conference will be held tomorrow.”
“Go clarify and apologize to the public.”
Apologize?
Who am I apologizing for? For Felix Shaw’s coldness and callousness, or for his supposed “face blindness”?
I looked at his impassive face and asked softly, “Who was that girl you were hugging at the airport?”
His hands paused from flipping through the documents, a rare stiffness crossing his face.
After a few seconds, he spoke: “There were so many people there, I thought it was you.”
I almost laughed out loud.
That girl that day wore a bright, eye-catching red dress and had long, wavy perms, a look I’d never worn before.
And I didn’t even have a single red dress in my closet.
“Felix Shaw, I clearly called you that day.”
The resentment within me forced me to ask. “And then?” Felix Shaw raised his eyelids. “Do you want me to apologize for my mental illness?”
“Sarah Grant, you knew I had this problem long before we got married.”
Looking at his impassive face, I suddenly felt tired.
Yes, this is all my own fault.
“Okay, I’ll go to the press conference.”
Felix Shaw’s attention wandered, his gaze fixed on my bag.
There was a half-opened aviation magazine.
I followed his gaze and saw that the page was open, a photo of a symphony orchestra performance.
Dozens of people were crowded together, and in the most inconspicuous corner of the photo, sat a girl playing the cello.
It was the girl Felix Shaw had embraced.
The photo was so blurry that her features were barely discernible.
But Felix Shaw, with just one glance, saw her.
It turned out that it wasn’t that he couldn’t recognize women’s faces.
He just couldn’t recognize someone he didn’t love.