On the way home, Leon chatted enthusiastically, sharing random anecdotes and amusing stories. I responded half-heartedly, nodding or murmuring in reply.
For a fleeting moment, it felt like the old days—when our world revolved solely around each other.
When we got home, I used fatigue as an excuse to avoid talking further and told him I was sleepy.
He urged me to rest on the couch for a bit, then busied himself in the kitchen, mumbling as he researched recipes.
Every few minutes, he'd announce something he’d read online about nourishing soups or health remedies. Soon, the sounds of chopping and clinking pots filled the air.
Leon was still so attentive, so good to me.
But I...
I picked up the calendar from the coffee table and stared at the dates.
The day of my departure was approaching.
Would Leon feel relieved or heartbroken when I left?
The thought made me chuckle bitterly.
The moment he chose to be with Zandra, he forfeited the right to feel hurt.
I was drifting off on the couch when he appeared with a steaming bowl of soup.
“Honey, try this. It’s my first attempt.”
I opened my eyes, then closed them again. “Leave it on the table. I’m not in the mood.”