Rocco exhaled, relief softening his voice, and smiled like a carefree child.
“Valerie, your braised pork is the best. I’ll come home tonight.”
As the call ended, I watched him pat Avery, murmuring something about switching positions. My stomach churned as their laughter mingled with the others.
It was as if the years of love we had shared had turned into nothing more than a cruel joke. My heart felt like it had been shattered into countless pieces.
The others chuckled, moving aside to give them more space. I turned away before anyone noticed me, my legs carrying me out of sight. The lunchbox in my hand suddenly felt heavier than I could bear, and without a second thought, I hurled it into the nearest trash can.
Back home, the haunting image of Rocco pressing against Avery while video-calling me churned in my mind, sending waves of nausea surging through me.
Unable to contain the disgust, I hurled my phone into the toilet. My hands trembled as I scrubbed them under cold water, over and over, until the soap dispenser was empty. Yet, no amount of washing seemed to cleanse the taint.
Rocco’s puzzled voice snapped me out of my frenzy.
“Valerie?”
His gaze fell on my water-soaked, pale hands, and he rushed to my side with visible concern.
“Why are you washing your hands with cold water? Your period starts tomorrow. What if your stomach hurts? Do you want me to worry myself sick over you?”
I pulled my hands back; my voice was as flat as the air between us.
“My phone slipped into the toilet. I couldn’t save it.”
Without hesitation, Rocco hurried to prepare a hot water bottle, his movements quick yet tender. He returned with a basin of warm water steeped in ginger slices. Squatting before me, he gently took my feet in his hands, his tone laced with indulgent helplessness.
“If it’s dropped, so be it. It’s just an old, dirty phone. Is it really worth you fishing it out? I’ll buy you a new one tomorrow, the best money you can get.”
“Oh, and tomorrow is your big sister’s baby’s one-month celebration. Mom wants us to join them for dinner.”
His gentle and caring demeanor felt like a cruel irony. My thoughts screamed questions I didn’t dare voice aloud.
What about you?
You’re tainted. Should I still want you?