Anger, pain and betrayal crashed over me like a tidal wave.
As Samuel walked toward the kitchen doorway, I quickly stuffed the marriage certificate back into his briefcase.
“Wash your hands and come eat.”
He entered the room, carrying a pot of soup, his face beaming with excitement.
I stood up but froze when I saw the large pot of chicken soup on the table.
I had once owned a pet chicken, but it had tragically fallen from the balcony and died. Since then, I hadn’t been able to bring myself to eat chicken soup.
Samuel knew this well.
As I stood there, lost in thought, the doorbell suddenly rang. I rushed to answer it.
When I opened the door, Starla was standing there, her belly swollen with pregnancy, a smug grin plastered on her face.
Before I even had a chance to invite her in, she breezed past me, practically barging through the door.
“Wow, that chicken soup smells amazing!” she exclaimed.
Samuel smiled at her.
“You came at the perfect time. You should drink more—it's good for you to replenish.”
His words hit me like a jolt and an uneasy feeling rose in my chest, a sense of dread that I couldn’t shake.
I forced down the anger building inside me and walked over.
“What are you doing here?”