Chapter 3

The shame in my heart made my eyes well up.

Seeing Anya remain impassive to her friends' taunts, I just wanted to disappear.

I dropped my gift and turned to leave.

But Anya grabbed my arm:

“You’re here now, so stay and join us.”

Then, Anya looked at Chloe and the others:

“Please stop talking about Julian like that.”

“He really didn't know the truth back then. I deliberately kept everything from him.”

“He didn't know I had a husband, nor did he know about the impending bankruptcy.”

“I was wrong first.”

Anya’s friends fell silent, no longer speaking ill of me.

But they still clearly wanted me gone.

Just as the atmosphere hung heavy, the door opened again.

Anya’s husband, Marcus, appeared at the doorway.

Marcus’s expression froze for a split second when he saw me there.

He quickly composed himself and walked over to Anya, taking her wine glass and saying with concern:

“Anya, your stomach has always been sensitive. You really shouldn't drink so much wine.”

Anya took the glass back from him, saying:

“I’m fine. It’s rare we all get together, so I have to celebrate properly.”

Watching Marcus’s devoted care for her, a sour feeling twisted in my gut.

After that, Anya’s friends kept teasing Marcus and Anya, pointedly leaving me out.

I endured a night steeped in bitterness.

The next day, Anya sent me a message.

[It’s been so long since I’ve had your home-cooked meals. I really miss them.]

I replied almost instantly:

[Wait for me! I’ll bring it to your office!]

I spent two full hours cooking, then carried the packed lunchboxes to her company.

When I reached Anya’s office door, I ran into Marcus coming out.

“Hey.”

I offered a smile and a greeting.

Marcus ignored me, pushed the office door open, and walked in.

I felt awkward but followed him in anyway.

Anya, who was working at her desk, frowned when she saw both Marcus and me enter.

“What are you doing here?”

Both Marcus and I froze.

Neither of us knew who she was talking to.

I forced a smile, placed the lunchboxes on her desk, and opened them one by one:

“I made all your favorite dishes, the spicy ones.”

Marcus’s face immediately darkened, and he yelled at me:

“Are you trying to kill Anya?!”

I was utterly confused.

Marcus explained:

“These past few years, Anya has had to drink at countless business dinners to get the company back on its feet. She even ended up with stomach ulcers.”

“Now, her stomach absolutely cannot handle spicy food!”

At the mention of this, my eyes burned.

But Anya picked up her forks:

“It’s not Julian’s fault. I wanted to eat it.”

She began eating ravenously.

Soon, her face became noticeably pale.

I quickly urged her:

“Anya, maybe you should stop eating.”

Anya was clearly in pain, but she gritted her teeth and insisted:

“It’s fine. It’s just been so long since I’ve had anything this spicy, I’m a bit out of practice.”

That night, I heard Anya had been rushed to the hospital.

Marcus was the one who told me himself.

My heart felt like it was being ripped to shreds.

Anya clearly couldn't handle spicy food, so why did she eat it?

Marcus roared at me over the phone:

“After all these years, does she still love you that much?!”

“Even knowing how severe the consequences would be, she still ate your home-cooked meal!”

“I honestly believe if you gave her poison, she’d swallow it without hesitation!”

“Why?!”

“I’m the one who loves her most.”

“I’m her husband.”

“What exactly do I lack compared to you?!”