To comfort Alison, Blake, ignoring my three-month pregnancy, tied me down and personally operated to remove my child as a burial offering for hers.
He didn’t even wait for my surgery to finish; instead, he took Alison on vacation abroad.
At an auction, he threw money around carelessly, buying her several sky-high priced luxury collectibles, including a medieval opulent coronet.
Meanwhile, I, due to massive bleeding during surgery, lost a fallopian tube and was left lying in a hospital bed, completely unattended.
Now, he shamelessly claimed that I owed Alison.
How ridiculous.
As I calmly walked toward the kitchen, Blake raised his eyebrows and arrogantly issued more instructions.
"Don’t forget, Alison doesn’t eat cilantro."
"And make a fish too. Debone it completely and keep the flavor light..."
His thoughtfulness made Alison blush shyly, her slender fingers mischievously slipping into his collar.
For a while, soft moans filled the air and the atmosphere grew increasingly intimate.
I numbly closed the kitchen door, shutting out the sounds from outside.
Suddenly, I remembered: in five years of marriage, he couldn’t even name a single dish I liked, yet he knew Alison’s preferences by heart.