Chapter 8

I

The final scene was of interlocked hands, like a couple deeply in love. I stared intently at the image, not noticing any flaws.

After that day, Gabriel's mother never brought up the topic of children with me again.

I had thought Gabriel was respecting my wishes, but now it seems he probably couldn't wait to be rid of me. But why didn't he divorce me and instead lived with me until we were 80?

A piece of information flashed through my mind. It wasn't that I couldn't hear Gabriel's inner voice anymore, but that my words no longer provoked any reaction from him. He didn't even feel disgust towards me anymore.

The scene before me blurred, then came back into focus. Surprisingly, it was 81-year-old Gabriel wiping the knife.

This was when I went to get the cake!

Gabriel was alone at home. He sat in front of the coffee table, carefully wiping the knife. Each movement was very gentle, as if he was handling some precious treasure.

The knife gleamed as he polished it, reflecting his wrinkled face.

This time I could hear Gabriel speaking again.

"My darling, my precious darling."

"My darling, my precious darling."

He seemed to have gone mad, repeating this phrase over and over.

The door opened with a click.

I had just picked up the cake from the floor when I was startled by the gleaming knife in Gabriel's hand.

"Gabriel... there's a knife here to cut the cake."