Chapter 2
Chapter 2: The Cruel Reality
Before Daniel's eyes was a scene he could never have imagined, let alone on his wife's birthday.
Emily was kneeling on the floor.
The expensive strawberry vanilla cake—the gift he had so carefully procured—was now smashed, flattened, and utterly ruined on the marble tiles. The delicate pink frosting was smeared and mixed pitifully with crushed sugar decorations and bruised, bleeding strawberries.
But what made Daniel's heart clench violently was not the destroyed cake. It was Emily.
Smears of pink cream stained the sleeves of her blouse, soiled her pale cheeks, and even clung to the soft brown strands of hair falling messily over her face. Her tiny hands were trembling uncontrollably as she used an old, ragged kitchen towel to desperately scrape the disastrous mess into a small pile. She scrubbed frantically, her posture shrunk inward like a terrified, cornered bird.
And sitting directly across from her, just a few steps away, was Margaret.
Daniel's mother.
She sat cross-legged on the expensive velvet sofa. Her posture was flawless. Her tailored designer suit did not possess a single wrinkle. A gleaming string of pearls rested on her proud, arrogant neck.
She leisurely lifted a gold-rimmed porcelain teacup to her lips, taking a slow sip with a chilling, absolute calmness, exactly as if she were watching a dreadfully boring television show on a lazy afternoon.
There was no pity in her eyes. No words of comfort. And absolutely no intention of leaning down to help her daughter-in-law.
For several agonizing seconds, Daniel seemed to lose the ability to speak. He stood frozen, rooted to the spot. The ambient sounds of the room seemed to fade away entirely, replaced only by the deafening, frantic pounding of his own heart hammering against his ribs. It beat so loudly he felt a ringing in his ears.
Sensing someone's presence, Emily finally stopped scrubbing and slowly looked up.
Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen from crying. When she saw Daniel standing there with the flowers, she quickly ducked her head, trying to force the smallest, most broken, and unnatural smile a human being could possibly muster.
"I'm sorry."
She whispered, her voice fractured and as fragile as the wind.
May you like
Sorry?
Daniel's mind reeled in absolute confusion. Why on earth was his wife apologizing while she was kneeling on the floor, covered in cake icing, on her own birthday?
