Chapter 4
That birthday, after paying rent, our account balance was practically drained. During the damp and gloomy rainy season, we were stuck in a basement with no sunlight, living like cockroaches. Grady felt embarrassed; back then, we scrimped and saved every penny. On my birthday, he couldn't even afford to buy a discounted spiced honey cake. I fibbed and said I didn't like sweets, especially cakes, with their sickly sweetness that I pretended to detest. But honestly, what girl doesn't enjoy a slice of cake now and then?
He made a bowl of homemade vegetable ravioli soup for me and slipped the only poached egg into my bowl. It was the best vegetable ravioli soup I've ever tasted. Later, he bought me a big house and a luxury car, but none of that matched the warmth of that bowl of soup in my mind. It's not that his actions changed so dramatically over time, but rather because I had once felt the depth of his love. I realized clearly that he no longer loved me the same way.
"Besides your birthday, there’s something else I need to discuss today," he said, gesturing with a look for me to stand. "This morning, Catherine posted something on WhatsApp, and you, as the boss's wife, made a comment that upset her." Seeing that I hadn’t stood up, he assumed I hadn’t caught his hint.
"Matilda, stand up quickly. Let’s offer a toast to Catherine as an apology." He came over, pulled me up from my seat, filled the wine glass in front of me, and put it in my hand. He led by example and finished his drink, only to turn around and find I hadn't even started.
"Grady, I can't drink this wine." Catherine quickly interjected, not wanting him to pressure me. "If she doesn’t want to drink, let it be. Don’t let me come between you two."
Grady grew even angrier at her words. "If you were even half as considerate as Catherine, you'd just drink when I ask."
He had never yelled at me like this before.
I gently set down the wine glass, took a report from my bag, and handed it to him. "Grady, I had a miscarriage; I can’t drink. Why are you insisting?"
Grady picked up that thin sheet of paper; every word shouted at him about the child he could have had. His grip on the paper tightened, and his eyes began to redden. "Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant earlier?" His face was full of disbelief as he shook my shoulders, shouting, "How could you not tell me?"
A stabbing pain cut through my heart, but it was this pain that brought clarity. In front of everyone, I walked out of that private room.
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