Chapter 3
Ricky Grayton got home at 2 a.m.
I was sitting in the living room, drinking water, with a pure white wedding dress beside me.
His cold face twisted into surprise.
A
“I told you we’re not taking wedding photos. Why did you bring the dress home? Staying up
this late just to stare at it? Are you that desperate to get married?”
The dress was one I had bought earlier. I was actually planning to list it online to sell.
Truth be told, I had gone to bed earlier but woke up with a headache and got up to take
some painkillers.
Ricky pulled out an elegant gift box.
“It’s all your favorite snacks.”
Now it was my turn to be dumbfounded. I thought he was just saying it to placate me, bi he had actually bought me souvenirs.
He opened the box for me.
Inside were handmade chocolates with cartoon designs–exquisitely crafted, cute, and
whimsical.
L
For someone as emotionally dense as Ricky, picking out something like this seemed out of
character.
Somehow, my thoughts drifted back to the delicate, girlish voice from the hotel video.
Ricky’s gaze darkened as he watched me with a peculiar interest, as if readying himself for a counterattack against whatever I might say next.
But I merely smiled, placed the chocolates on the table, and said,
“Thank you, but I’m allergic to chocolate. You can have them.”
17:16
A Love Left Behand
Chapter 3
There was no explosion, no anger–nothing he might have anticipated. I wasn’t even slightly
upset.
His face flushed red, and he sounded almost flustered:
“Aren’t you going to ask me anything?”
‘s been hot lately. Handmade chocolates like these melt easily. Remember to put them in the fridge so they don’t lose their flavor. If there’s nothing else, I’ll head to bed now.”
Ricky’s face turned even darker.
I found it curious.
What exactly did he want me to ask?
Was it about the videos he posted?
Or about the woman he’d spent the past few days with at the hotel?
Honestly, I didn’t care anymore.
Just like I didn’t care about Ricky Grayton anymore.
The next morning, Ricky was getting ready for work.
He walked into my room, frowning.
“Alexia Hilary, why haven’t you ironed my shirts these past few days? And why are my
clothes still sitting in the washing machine unwashed?”
Chapter 4
