4
It was late night when we got back from the hospital.
On the way back, Julian unconsciously took my hand in his.
“If you feel uncomfortable anywhere, tell me right away. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with an idiot.”
See? That’s the real Julian.
I knew that moment this afternoon had to be my imagination.
“Don’t worry,” I retorted, pulling my hand away mercilessly. “I don’t want to live with someone who has an STD either.”
Julian seemed to zone out for a second, as if desperate to explain something, but in the end, he said nothing.
After a whole night of commotion, I was exhausted. But the thought of escaping this dreadful place tomorrow brought a
sliver of comfort.
Back at the villa, I naturally headed to my bedroom, ready to close the door.
But Julian suddenly appeared, blocking my bedroom door with his hand.
“Wait!”
I slapped his hand off the door.
<
“Wait for what? Can’t you see my eyelids are practically glued shut?”
Julian was persistent, telling me not to close the door.
I wanted to see what he was up to now.
A moment later, he reappeared in front of me, carrying a duvet from the neighboring bedroom.
*My head was the one that got hit. Why was *he* acting crazy?
“It’s so hot, I don’t need such a thick blanket. Besides, who knows if there are any germs on that?”
Julian stood there, looking utterly forlorn, like a lost child.
He dropped his usual cutting remarks, speaking to me with a rare, gentle tone.
“Your head injury isn’t healed yet. If we sleep together, I can look after you.”
“Didn’t you complain I never slept with you? Well, I’m making it up to you now.”
Oh no. His mistress must have dumped him, and now he was trying to come back to me.
But I was leaving soon. I didn’t need his charity.
“I just have a minor cut. I’m not paralyzed, and I don’t need someone to babysit me.”
Ignoring his pitiful expression, I slammed the bedroom door shut.
After a long while, hearing no movement outside, I quietly got up and opened the door again.
I thought Julian would be asleep, but there he was, sitting alone in the living room, drowning his sorrows.
I stood on the second floor, looking down at him, watching him pour drink after drink down his throat.
He seemed completely out of it.
In all our time married, I’d never seen him so wasted.
His mistress must have really hurt him, that’s why he was drinking his sorrows away.
Just as I was about to leave, a voice suddenly came from downstairs.
“Don’t go, Scarlett.”
My heart lurched. I turned back and met Julian’s bloodshot eyes, brimming with tears, as if they’d overflow any second.
But I couldn’t stay. There was no point in us continuing this anymore.
