Chapter 6

My face and body were wrapped in bandages. I stayed home for many days without going out.

I thought Frost would be thrilled.

She could brazenly cling to Ethan without worrying I'd find out.

But she didn't. Instead, she stayed home taking care of me.

She'd wake early in the morning to make chicken soup, then call me to eat after I woke up.

She'd patiently help me apply medicine, and when the wounds were exposed, she'd even have our daughter blow on them gently.

I couldn't understand what she was trying to do.

Until I discovered she had transferred our last bit of savings to Ethan as well.

Frost could never give me any emotional response.

The better she treated me, the more it meant she was hurting me.

But fortunately, I didn't need that money.

The seven years I'd been married to Frost were probably the poorest seven years of my life.

I just quietly urged the lawyer to process the divorce paperwork.

Every night after I went to bed, Frost would quietly leave by car.

She thought I didn't know, but I was awake every time. Even Emma knew.

Emma asked me, "Daddy, aren't you angry that Mommy goes out?"

I just shook my head with a smile.

I knew where Frost went.

The year Emma was born, we had exchanged GPS locations—just a small feature that was easy to forget.

Now every day I could see her location appearing at Ethan's house.

That evening, Frost's mother called about a family dinner to celebrate Ethan's company "overcoming its difficulties."

I wanted to refuse, but Frost gently persuaded me:

"The bandages are off your face. It would be good for you to get out. Besides, Emma wants you to come."

I knew Emma didn't want me there, but I still put on my cleanest shirt to cover the scars on my neck.

At the restaurant's private room, there was Frost's father and mother, Ethan, Frost, Emma, and that blind date woman from last time.

The atmosphere was much better than before.

Ethan wore his new suit, looking spirited as he poured drinks for everyone.

Emma wore a pink princess dress today with two little buns. Frost had done her hair.

Frost's mother suggested having Emma pass around cookies to the elders.

"Come on, Emma. Start with Grandma."

Emma helped pass around a plate of cookies and walked over, saying sweetly, "Grandma, please have cookies." Frost's mother beamed with joy.

"Now serve one to your uncle." Frost's mother pointed at Ethan with a smile.

Emma walked up to Ethan, and suddenly called out crisply: "Daddy, please have cookies."

The entire room fell silent for a moment.

The sound of knives and forks dropping on the table was particularly clear.

Frost's mother paused, then smoothed things over. "This child, why are you calling people the wrong names?"

Emma said seriously, as if she'd rehearsed it many times, "Mommy said Uncle Ethan is my new daddy. Daddy is moving out soon."

Everyone's eyes turned to me.

My hand holding the water glass was trembling. Scalding water splashed out and burned the back of my hand, but I felt nothing.

I looked at Frost. She was looking down at her phone, the corners of her mouth slightly upturned with a trace of smug satisfaction.

Ethan, on the other hand, acted magnanimous, pulling Emma close and kissing her cheek. "Emma is such a good girl. Uncle Ethan will be good to you from now on."

Then he looked up, meeting my eyes, and said with a smile:

"Zachary, don't take it to heart. Kids are young and don't understand."

I opened my mouth, wanting to say something.

Frost's mother across from me sighed, looking at me with an expression that said "why are you so stubborn":

"Zachary, the child made a mistake. Don't take it personally."

I lowered my head, looking at the water glass in my hands.

The water reflected my face—half covered with red marks from the burns, like an ugly birthmark.

I suddenly felt a bitter taste in my mouth.

More bitter than kidney failure medication.

I set down the water glass and said quietly, "She's right. I am moving out soon."

Then I stood up, grabbed my jacket, and walked out of the private room.

Behind me came Emma's cheers: "Yay! Old Daddy is finally leaving!"

Then Frost's soft laugh, Ethan's "Come on, let's keep eating," and Frost's mother's "Don't worry about him. That's just his temperament."

I stood outside the restaurant entrance. The night wind poured into my collar, blowing against the scars on my neck—painful and itchy.

My phone vibrated. It was a message from Frost.

"It's better that you left. With you there for Emma's birthday, everyone felt awkward."

I didn't reply.