He hung up, but it rang again.
A few days ago, he had rearranged all his work to make up for my birthday.
He seemed very hesitant.
He picked up his phone, wanting to end the call, again and again, only to stop.
Finally, he made a choice.
He pressed the power button to turn off the phone.
It seemed he chose me.
But I couldn't feel any joy.
At that moment, his demeanor became extremely restless.
He urged me to light the candles and cut the cake.
His impatience was burning like a fire in his eyes.
This make-up birthday celebration was turning into a mere formality.
And even his efforts to appease me seemed half-hearted.
My heart sank further.
After he glanced at his watch countless times, I said, "If you have work to do, you should go ahead."
I clutched the perfume tightly as if it could give me strength.
He seemed relieved.
He didn't even offer any polite refusal before getting up quickly from his seat.
"There's a problem with a project in the company. Lucille can't handle it, so I need to go take a look.
"I'll be back soon."
Four hours passed.
He didn't come back.
I carried the cake to his office.