The Picture Perfect Love

I only learned to cook three years ago.

It was always Sebastian who cooked before he returned to the Chesson residence. He used to say that my hands were meant to heal people, and were too precious to be scarred by cooking oil. He said he loved the scent of herbs on me and didn't want me smelling like grease.

And now, he wanted me to cook for Roxanne.

My chest felt tight. It was like I couldn't breathe. I opened my mouth and sucked in a deep breath.

As I looked at Roxanne and Sebastian, wrapped around each other, I smiled and said, "Okay."

I still remembered how he carried me out of a burning building on his back 12 years ago. But the moment I lit the stove in the kitchen, whatever affection remained went up in flames, too.

He leaned against the doorframe and said apologetically, "Sorry. Rox's has always had a poor appetite, but she really likes your cooking."

My hands froze for a moment. My arm, which had just begun to recover, was starting to ache. I couldn't believe that he was apologizing to his wife for another woman.

Sebastian stepped closer, gently brushing my hair back. "Hadn't you always wanted to visit Newland? I'll take you at the end of the month."

Men always seemed nicer when they'd done something wrong. I remembered that. In the early years of our marriage, when Sebastian and I had no money, we dreamed about traveling together.

Then, when we finally had money, he always said that he was too busy. But over the past three years, he'd traveled the world with Roxanne, his secretary.

I didn't say anything for a long while. Eventually, I just nodded.

That trip was a promise between me and the man who once loved me. I wanted to see it through. But once again, he let me down.

…

I waited at the gate until the plane took off. It was only then that he called me.

"Tess, Rox's scared of thunder. I have to stay with her. We'll go to Newland next time, okay?"

I could hear Roxanne's voice in the background, saying, "Mr. Chesson, where did you put the pads you bought me?"

He chuckled. "Silly woman, they're in the cabinet in the bathroom."

I heard the shuffle of slippers, then the sound of a loud smacking kiss. Roxanne giggled. "A kiss to thank my Mr. Chesson!"

Sebastian sounded helpless as he said, "You're not a kid anymore. So stop acting like one. Go change. I'll make you some lemon tea."

I walked out of the airport into the downpour, dragging my suitcase behind me, letting the rain soak me to the bone.

My voice sounded distant and cold, like raindrops tapping on a stone surface. "I got it."

He then seemed to realize that the call hadn't ended. His voice turned rough as he said, "Tess, I'll bring back some roasted chicken—your favorite."

"No need," I curtly said before hanging up on the call.

My vision blurred. I couldn't tell whether it was from my tears or the rain. I used to be afraid of thunder, too. But for the past three years, I'd been alone every stormy night. As such, I wasn't afraid anymore.

When my cramps were so bad that I fainted during my period, Sebastian just said, "Does it hurt that much? Or are you faking it?"

Sometimes, he'd mock me, saying, "You bleed every month but can never get pregnant."

I guessed I never should've kept quiet about his low sperm count.

I placed my hand over my flat belly and thought of the child I lost—the one it took so much to conceive. I collapsed in the rain.

My best friend, Sheryl Jacobson, pulled up in her car, cursing as she jumped out.

"Sebastian's a damn jerk. He's changed after becoming rich. You're barely a month past a miscarriage, and he's already putting you through hell. Does he have any conscience?"

Fearing Sheryl might erupt with anger, I quickly tried to calm her down. "Don't mention him. After the divorce, he'll just be a stranger."

She snorted coldly. "Damn right. Once you leave him, let him rot. You should take that sexy younger guy who's been flirting with you and ride off into the sunset. Sebastian's 32. I bet he's already useless in bed."

I was speechless when I heard her remarks.

Sheryl dropped me off and handed me the divorce papers. "The sooner you're out of this marriage, the better."

But Sebastian didn't come home for two whole months. When he finally did, he was carefully helping Roxanne through the door.

Roxanne looked at me, her smile smug. "Tessa, I'm pregnant. Mr. Chesson was worried, so he insisted I stay here to rest."

My phone slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor.

Sebastian picked it up. "Actually—"

But Roxanne cut him off with a dramatic yelp as she clutched her belly. She whined, "Mr. Chesson, it hurts."

"Tess, I bought roasted chicken for you," he muttered before scooping Roxanne up and rushing into the master bedroom.

As I walked past her, I heard her whisper tauntingly, "All cluck, no eggs."

I opened the takeout bag to find the roasted chicken stone-cold, a greasy white film sticking to it. That cold, congealed chicken looked just like our broken relationship.

From upstairs, Sebastian shouted, "Tess, make some oatmeal. Rox's craving it."

When I brought the oatmeal up, I deliberately spilled it all over him.

Roxanne cried out, her voice full of hurt, "Tess, if you're mad, take it out on me. Don't hurt Mr. Chesson!"

"It's fine," Sebastian said, flustered, trying to wipe off the mess. "My clothes are thick and absorbed most of the spill. I'm not hurt."

While he was distracted, I opened the divorce agreement to the signature page and handed it to him. "Your assistant dropped off some documents just now and said that you need to sign."

This kind of thing had happened before. He didn't think twice and just signed it before walking into the bathroom to clean himself up.