She lay on the living room sofa at eleven o’clock at night, but Warren still hadn’t returned. Penelope got up, picked up her phone, and called him.
“Hello,” his voice was low, but thankfully he didn’t hang up immediately.
“When will you be back? I’m waiting for you at home,” Penelope said, sitting up.
He paused and replied, “You don’t have to wait for me,” then hung up abruptly, leaving Penelope speechless.
Exhausted from the long flight and jet lag, she paced around the room. After a while, she noticed a light from outside and hurried downstairs.
Warren entered, wearing a black shirt with his coat draped over his arm. He’d had a haircut, and he looked incredibly sharp.
Penelope stopped a few steps away from him, not daring to approach any closer.
“What’s wrong?” He took off his tie and casually discarded his coat.
Penelope tried to speak, but tears rose before the words escaped. She remembered the coldness in his eyes lately, how he had left without a backward glance. It broke her heart.
When she hadn’t seen him, she had resolved not to cry and to fight for their love. She had to calmly explain and take responsibility for making him sad. But now, with him standing just a few meters away, it felt as if there was an insurmountable chasm between them. She looked at him with hope, but his icy gaze was like a sharp blade that instantly brought tears to her eyes.
“Why are you crying? Do you feel wronged?” He asked, his tone cold.
In the past, when she cried, he would hold her close and gently stroke her head. But now, as she cried, he stood there unmoved, as though she were insignificant.
Penelope wiped her tears and, her nose red, said, “I need to explain this to you. Please sit down and listen.”
She knew it wasn’t the time to cry.
Warren unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and replied, “Let’s talk about it tomorrow. I’m very tired today.”
Then he walked past her, his demeanor cold.
“Wait,” she called out, but he didn’t look back.
Warren had just taken the first step on the stairs when he heard her voice and furrowed his brow. “I said we can talk about it tomorrow.”
“But I need to clarify this now. Don’t you stay up late often? Can’t you spare ten minutes?” She pleaded.
They were at an impasse. She hunched her shoulders, and he couldn’t tell if she was crying or simply frightened by him.
Warren took a step back and sat down on the sofa, looking up at her. “Go ahead.”
Penelope didn’t sit or move. She stood there and explained everything, including the part about Daisy. After her explanation, he fell into silence for a while.
Penelope was prepared to receive his understanding, but to her surprise, he nodded and went upstairs directly to sleep.
Penelope was stunned. ‘He… just leaves like this?’ She wondered.
She stomped her feet in frustration and turned to the guest room to sleep.
****
The following morning, Penelope woke up early. She eagerly opened her suitcase and took out her long-awaited cosmetic bag. She then applied makeup carefully.
The bedroom door swung open, and Warren raised his eyes to look at her. She was dressed in a water-blue off-the-shoulder striped shirt paired with a distressed denim skirt that stopped halfway down her legs. She had also put on elaborate makeup and wore a pair of extra-large earrings that added to her allure.
She met his gaze, but he looked away casually. Penelope clenched her teeth and picked up Chris, who was already awake. She showered him with kisses and carried him downstairs. The door closed behind her, leaving the bedroom quiet. After a few minutes, Warren realized that he had tied his tie incorrectly.
“Look, Chris knows his mother’s back, and he’s smiling all the time,” Mrs. Brown remarked downstairs with a smile.
Just then, Mrs. Jones arrived with some milk powder and said, “The temperature is just right.”
“Thank you,” Penelope replied with a smile as she took it and began to feed Chris.
“You still have to go to school. Let me help,” Mrs. Jones offered.
“It’s okay. It’s still early,” Penelope replied, her attention focused on Chris.
“Sir, breakfast is ready,” Mrs. Brown announced when she saw Warren coming downstairs.
Warren walked over and glanced at Penelope, who was sitting at the table, feeding Chris. She wore a broad smile while looking down at their son, seemingly oblivious to the eyes of those around her.
Penelope sat upright, her eyes on Chris, but her thoughts were on Warren. Mrs. Brown sensed the tension between them and discreetly took Mrs. Jones into the kitchen.
Chris quickly finished his milk and stared at his mother.
“You’re such a sweetheart,” Penelope said, leaning down to kiss his head. Chris grinned, his infectious laughter breaking the somber breakfast atmosphere.
“Baby,” Penelope looked at him in surprise. Chris waved his hand, grabbed Penelope’s finger, and put it in his mouth. “Oh, Mom’s hand is dirty. You can’t eat that,” she smiled and kissed his face. Then she stood up, ready to put him in his cradle.
“Woo… woo…” Chris suddenly cried.
Penelope couldn’t put him down because he would cry every time she tried. “Baby, do you want Mom to take you to school? Let me tell you, school isn’t that fun…” Penelope gently coaxed.
“He’s only three months old. He doesn’t understand,” Warren commented as he walked over and took Chris from Penelope’s arms.
Penelope looked up and watched him pat Chris’s back. Then he sat back at the table with their son.
“How do you eat with him?” Penelope asked.
“It’s none of your business. Just eat your own food,” he replied coldly, holding Chris with one hand and using a fork with the other.
Penelope fell silent and took her seat across from Warren to eat her breakfast.
Chris wriggled in his father’s arms and eventually fell asleep. Warren carefully placed him back in the crib and prepared to head to work. Penelope didn’t move because she wasn’t sure how she would get to school today.
Based on what she knew, this seemingly cold-hearted man wouldn’t take the initiative to give her a ride. True to her expectations, he drove away without even glancing at her.