A sarcastic smile played on my lips. Once she finished speaking, I looked at Eason and said coldly, "Eason, let's break up."
I didn't need a wedding, real or fake.
Just being near him made me sick.
Without waiting for his reaction, I stood up and went to the bedroom to grab the suitcase I had packed the night before.
My body was stiff from holding the same posture for too long.
But Eason ignored me and continued eating the breakfast Cindy brought.
Dragging my small suitcase to the door, I paused, remembering the items in the refrigerator.
I turned back and stood in front of Eason.
He looked up, scoffing, "Changed your mind? It's not too late to apologize. Don't be so stubborn; I've spoiled you too much over the years."
I didn't even glance at him. I simply looked at the fridge and said, "Please move aside."
He looked sullen and ignored me, so I stepped past him.
From the bottom shelf of the refrigerator, I carefully retrieved the meat pies my mother had made during her last visit.
I held them gently in my arms.
As I turned to leave, Eason deliberately tripped me.
It made me hit my head on the corner of the table.
He frowned, clearly annoyed. "Why are you treating that junk like it's precious? You should've thrown that garbage out long ago! The refrigerator reeks because of those old meat pies!"
I forced myself up, my hands pressing against the floor where the meat pies scattered.
My vision was blurred by the blood slowly trickling from my wound.
Eason, towering over me with a grim expression, lit a cigarette with a disdainful flick.
"Yara, stop being so pathetic. Do you think groveling on the floor is going to change anything? Just because I helped Cindy yesterday, you're acting like this?
"The wedding was a sham, so why are you flipping out now?
"Can a fake wedding be more important than human life?"
He still thought I was just mad about his absence from the wedding.
It wasn't about the fake ceremony.
It was about never being important to him.
For five years, I had been the lesser one in our relationship.
Perhaps compared to me, Cindy could be a better wife that he was satisfied with.
I was always waiting for him to come home.
All I got was news that he and Cindy were socializing together.
I sent him messages, asking him to drink less.
But all my messages were met with the red exclamation mark of being blocked.