I took a half-day off in the afternoon to wait for him outside his office.
But I didn't tell him in advance, just said to come home early for dinner together.
At 3:15pm, he texted me saying his department had an event tonight and he couldn't join me for dinner.
Half an hour later, I was sitting in a coffee shop across the street, watching Ford walk out of the office building alone and get into a purple Mini Cooper.
I walked home in a daze. Passing a flower vendor, I said "Give me a bouquet of lilies."
Ford came home at 9pm.
I sat at the table, unmoving, as the dishes had long gone cold.
Ford said, "You cooked? I said I wouldn't be back for dinner tonight."
I still didn't speak, just slowly rubbed the lily bouquet on the table.
The shabby, worn-out fragrance wafted out, very vulgar.
Even with this artistic, abstruse way of hinting, Ford could easily understand.
This was evidence of his love for me, I thought bitterly.
"Clara, honey... I..."
Ford came over and pushed my shoulder.
My tears began to drip down.