Henry stood there stunned. In the past, whenever he hugged me, I would hold him with a smile, enjoying our intimacy.
He withdrew his hand in shock, finally catching the key words. "What's wrong with Caroline?"
I couldn't help but chuckle. When my grandmother passed out, he was wrapped in the arms of another woman. Yet, the first thing on Grandma's mind when she regained consciousness was Henry's absence.
I picked up the food and turned to leave, "Grandma is sick."
He seemed very anxious too. He put on his coat and wanted to follow me.
But before he could take a step outside, his phone rang.
He looked a bit nervous when he saw who was calling, but he answered anyway. I couldn't discern the conversation, but he was even more anxious than before.
After hanging up the phone, he walked away quickly. As if he'd just realized I was there, he touched his nose and said, "Sorry, Wendy, something's come up. You go ahead. I'll join you later."
Before I could utter a word, he had vanished into thin air.
Silently, I packed the food and made my way to see Grandma.
I was by Grandma's side all day at the hospital, keeping her company and offering her comfort. Despite her urging me to go home and get some rest, I stayed until evening. Henry didn't show up at all.
The house felt pretty empty when I walked in. After showering, I crawled into bed.
My body exhausted but my mind in turmoil.
When did Henry start cheating on me? Was it during my last business trip, or had it begun much earlier?
Another message interrupted my thoughts, displaying a picture of Henry massaging Melissa's feet, accompanied by a taunting message: [Has Henry ever done this for you? I heard your grandma is unwell, such a pity. But I'd rather have Henry accompany me shopping first. Hope you don't mind?]
More messages flooded in: [Wendy, stop pretending. I know you've seen it. I suggest you give up the Mrs. Johnson title as soon as you can, or you'll regret it.]
I didn't reply, turned off my phone, and forced myself to go to sleep.
Later, I heard Henry return. He disappeared into the bathroom for a shower before slipping into bed beside me, his back turned. The bedside lamp remained lit, as was my custom.
In the dim light, I noticed scratches on his back, likely inflicted by Melissa. I couldn't discern if they were accidental or deliberate.
Sitting up, I confronted him, "Henry, you didn't come to the hospital."