Seeing me silent, Valerie pulled out her phone. "It’s just money, right? I’ll transfer it to you now."
"Do you really think paying a little gives you the right to act high and mighty?" she continued rambling as she scrolled through her contacts, but after a long while, she couldn’t find my number.
Sighing, I pointed to an avatar on her screen to help her.
On her phone, my profile picture was there, but instead of my name, it was my online username.
No notes. No priority pin.
She hesitated before tapping into the chat window.
The most recent messages were from me, days ago—dozens of texts about wedding preparations, but they were all unanswered.
And at the top of her pinned contacts was not surprisingly Ayden.
Upon realizing that, Valerie’s face turned pale.
She offered a weak explanation. "Ayden has a heart condition, so I need to know about his situation right away."
"Fine. Transfer the money." I remarked.
Anyway, I was leaving, and I wasn’t going to let myself be shortchanged.
This time, she silently sent me the money.
When I finally entered the apartment, I found our bedroom occupied by Ayden.
The cheerful red wedding decorations had been thrown into the trash.
"Ayden said they looked ugly. Honestly, I didn’t like them either, so I tossed them," Valerie hastily explained when she saw me looking at the trash bin.
"He has a heart condition, so don’t make a fuss over these things," she repeated over and over.
I didn’t argue as I might have in the past. Instead, I headed straight to the guest room.
In the middle of the night, she stood outside my locked door, pillow in hand, looking unsure. But she didn’t hesitate for long before turning and heading into Ayden’s room.
The next morning, I woke to find a full breakfast spread on the table.
In our eight years together, it was the first time I’d seen her cook.
I reached for a sandwich, but she darted over and slapped my hand away.
"Ayden has OCD. Don’t touch it," Valerie snarled, then pointed at the other side. "That one’s yours."
Following her gesture, I saw my "breakfast"—a mess of rejected scraps and poorly made leftovers.
I tossed out a casual "I’m not hungry" and left for breakfast elsewhere.
She didn’t seem to care, too busy spoon-feeding Ayden, who she treated like a "big child."
Later, as I headed back upstairs, she stopped me.