Suddenly, Ethan's phone rang. He quickly glanced at me before hurriedly retreating to the bedroom to answer the call. My hand paused mid-air and a coldness washed over me. It was that woman again.
He came out shortly after, grabbing his coat, "I'm sorry, my dear wife, something urgent came up at the company. I have to go back quickly!"
I gently adjusted his collar, smiling sweetly, "Go ahead, don't keep them waiting."
He patted my shoulder and walked out, the door slamming shut behind him. I sat there, alone with the dinner that had gone cold.
Quietly, I threw the meal away. The reflection in the kitchen glass showed a face that still looked youthful. It was a well-maintained face, almost forty, still without a fine line. But the eyes could not hide their fatigue.
I remember when we first started dating. Ethan used to tell me I was like a fresh cabbage, pure and full of life. Back then, he was full of dreams, poor but never insecure and completely different from those men who flattered and pleased me for money.