I didn't answer his questions but instead asked, "Javier, why did you change your shirt?"
His gaze remained calm as he effortlessly lied, "I spilled some porridge on my shirt while buying it, so I changed into a new one in the car."
I didn't say anything, just curled my lips into a mocking smile. He didn't notice, preoccupied as he took the porridge into the kitchen.
"I'll heat it up for you. Eating cold food will upset your stomach," he said. But when the porridge was placed in front of me, I couldn't bring myself to take a single bite.
I thought of that spilled bowl of porridge in the car, I thought of their intimate encounter.
Suppressing the nausea rising within me, I pushed the porridge onto the table. I pushed myself and said, "I don't want to eat anymore. I'm not feeling well today. I'll go to bed first."
Javier was confused, followed me, asking if I was okay. But I caught a whiff of a different scent on him. A fruity fragrance, something only a young girl would wear.
"Javier, I'm not feeling well. I'd like to sleep alone tonight. Go sleep in the guest room," I said it again. I pushed him out of the bedroom.