My parents' death anniversary is this Saturday.
After my hospital follow-up in the morning, I can go to the cemetery to visit them. It won't take too much time.
However, for some reason, I always have this vague feeling of unease, making it hard for me to speak confidently.
I couldn't tell Richard about my pregnancy yesterday. Also, I can't say with certainty to Amelia now that I will bring Richard with me.
I'm afraid plans might not keep up with changes.
The relationship between Richard and Bianca is like a ticking time bomb in my heart.
Amelia, noticing my lack of enthusiasm, glanced at Bianca's office, "Has the issue with that Patek Philippe been solved by Richard?"
"Almost."
We chatted for a while before she confidently returned to the marketing department. ... I don't know if Bianca has had a change of heart or suddenly figured things out.
For several days in a row, there have been no issues between us.
I was initially worried that she might delay my New Year's limited edition design, but it smoothly moved into the proofing phase.
"What do you think is the real relationship between the parachuted one and the company president?"
"Who knows."
"I was thinking she might be the president's wife mentioned in the rumors.
But these days, I haven't seen her interacting with the president at all."
"Maybe she's just low-key.
Have you ever seen someone with her sort of 'entrance', brought into the company personally by the president?"
"Well, it doesn't necessarily mean she's the president's wife.
She might be the mistress." ... On this day while filling up water in the pantry, I overheard some discussing my relationship with Richard.
As I turned around, I saw Bianca looking at me strangely.
"I thought you would have been gloating."
I was taken aback, unable to respond.
The colleagues who were gossiping privately, on the other hand, were frightened and fled like scared birds.
Suddenly, only Bianca and I were left in the pantry.
She pulled a smile, placing her cup under the coffee machine, "Why do you always have such a calm and composed demeanor?
When you lose, you're not frustrated; when you win, you don't even seem joyful."
"I didn't have the leisure for heart-to-heart talks with her, poured a glass of lemon water, and left right away.
Bianca suddenly laughed, "You think you have won?
I can't stand you acting like this.
Sophia, there are still many more days to come."
She finally couldn't hold it any longer, completely burning the bridge.
I frowned, "Did you forget to take your medication today?"
"What?" "You should consult a psychiatrist.
Don't skimp, although my father-in-law doesn't have much money, he should still be able to afford your medication."
I left briskly, leaving these words behind.
Just as I was about to enter my office, a clear sound came from the direction of the tea room.
Was she throwing things now? She really needed to take medication.
In the evening after work, Richard was waiting for me in the underground parking lot.
These days, he has truly become the doting husband that everyone talks about on the web.
We commute to work together, go home together, John delivers afternoon tea to my office every day, and from time to time, there are gifts to receive.
"What do you want to eat tonight?" As soon as I got in the car, Richard asked immediately."
I looked at him, raising an eyebrow, "Are you going to cook again?" These past few nights, he's been the one cooking.
Aunt Sandra sometimes looks at him with a touch of fear in her eyes, afraid that she'll lose her job.
Richard, with one hand on the steering wheel, drove out of the parking lot. His voice is clear and melodious, "Are you tired of my cooking already?"
"It's not that. I'm just curious.
You rarely cooked at home before."
"From now on, as long as I'm home, I'll cook."
"Oh." Of course, I wouldn't refuse.
Although I already knew who he learned his cooking skills from, as long as he distinguishes himself from Bianca, it wouldn't matter to me.
The person who should be upset that I'm taking advantage of the man she trained is her, not me.
Once we got back home, Richard changed into his casual clothes and went to cook in the kitchen.
His tall figure, bathed in the sunset's tangerine warmth through the windows, was haloed in a faint glow, softening his usual cool demeanor.
His eyes slightly lowered, his slender, boned hands adeptly handling the ingredients.
This peaceful scene, had a kind of tranquil charm to it.
Perhaps feeling my gaze on him, he looked up, chuckling lightly, "What are you spacing out for?"
"I just wanted to look at you."
I answer frankly. There's no shame in looking at one's own husband.
Moreover, he indeed has great looks, as if he's God's proud masterpiece.
He was about to speak when his phone inside his trouser pocket rang.
He was busy handling the fish and couldn't spare his hands,
"Wife, can you answer it for me?"
"Sure."
As I moved towards him, preparing to reach into his pocket, I found myself feeling a tad awkward.
Our intimate moments were mostly in bed.
Most other times, we were politely distant. Noticing my hesitation, he tilted his head to glance at me and teased, "We're an old couple now, what's there to be shy about?
I asked you to get the phone, not to grab something else."
"I didn't..." My cheeks heated slightly as I carefully reached in to get his phone, scared of touching something I shouldn't.
But still, unavoidably, I touched his sensitive area through the fabric. ... I sheepishly took out my phone, and as I looked up, I met his meaningful gaze.
Seeing John's call, he said to me as I answered and moved to pass it to him, "You answer it.
Ask him what's up." "Assistant John, Richard is a little busy right now, what can I do for you?" I asked.
"Young Madam." John recognized my voice, paused briefly, and then said, "Nothing much. There's a contractual term I'd like to confirm with the president.
Monday would work too." Neither Richard nor I paid much attention to this interlude.
In recent days, I've been feeling increasingly drowsy.
When Richard and I went for a post-dinner stroll in the garden, I felt a bit sleepy and groggy.
I went upstairs for a bath, and the moment I lay down on the bed I was out like a light.
I was sleeping peacefully, but since I had gone to sleep early, I was awakened by the urge to pee.
Only on turning on the lights did I realize that the other side of the bed was empty.
Richard was not there. After waking up a bit, I heard a sound coming from the balcony. It was the repressed and cold voice of Richard, "If she wants to die, hand her a knife! I should call 120! What's the point in calling me?
Am I a doctor or a policeman?"
"She wouldn't dare! How many times has she threatened suicide, and when has she ever drawn blood?"
"Tell her, I won't get a divorce! Let her give up on that idea!"
In the end, he lowered his voice even more, instructing, "Don't really let her have an accident, deploy more people to guard her."
However, I didn't quite catch this last sentence. ...
He turned his back to me with one hand resting on the railing, and his whole person exuded irritation and bitterness.
Bianca's strong obsession with him also makes me feel a bit helpless.
Fortunately, Richard might not indulge him this time.
After I went to the bathroom, it was a bit hard to fall asleep.
Not long after, Richard came in, gently holding me in his arms, with the coolness of the early autumn night on him. It felt very comfortable.
However, when I woke up, there was no one next to me.
I searched around downstairs and didn't see him. He promised to accompany me to the hospital. Aunt Sandra then said: "Madam, the master went out early in the morning, seems to be an emergency."
I was stunned for a moment.
I wanted to call him, but remembered that my mobile phone was upstairs, so I used the landline to call him.
In a short while, his tired voice came over the phone,
"Hello."
I sensitively sensed something wrong in his tone, "What's the matter?"
" Sophia, can you let Aunt Sandra accompany you to the hospital?
I'm afraid I don't have time today."