Dear, I'm Leaving for Good!

The next day, after I finished breakfast, Michael came downstairs, rubbing his temples.

The headache was a hangover symptom.

I felt bad for him and had learned to make several hangover soups just for him.

Without looking up, he instructed me, "Make another sandwich. Sophia likes it."

How amusing.

He really took me for their maid.

Michael sat at the table, noticing it was empty.

Not only had I not made anything for Sophia, but there was also no breakfast for him either.

He watched me carrying empty plates in and out of the kitchen and rarely spoke.

"I drank a lot last night. Sophia drove me home. With her driving skills, we nearly had an accident."

I was packing my lunch to take to the office and absentmindedly replied, "Oh, really? That is great."

He frowned at my indifferent response.

In the past, if I heard he had almost been in a car accident, I would be frantic, insist on taking him for a full-body checkup, nearly tying him to my waist.

He did not expect me to be so nonchalant.

"Stop being difficult and make breakfast for Sophia and me. You can ride shotgun later, okay?"

His tone was a mix of helplessness and condescension.

To him, I was just being troublesome.

I paused and looked at him.

Since Sophia joined the company, Michael took a detour every day to pick her up.

At first, Sophia and I fought fiercely over the front seat.

Michael put an end to it, saying, "Sophia gets the front seat; she gets carsick."

When he gave up the front seat, he never considered that I might get carsick too.

Now, he treated the front seat like a handout, but I did not care anymore.

"No thanks, I will take the subway to work."

He was silent, probably forgetting when I started taking the subway.

Waiting for Sophia to finish her makeup made us all late, affecting my project schedule, so I stopped joining them.

Watching their flirting also made me uncomfortable.

As I continued to pack, Michael said, "I might be home late tonight."

"Okay."

"It is Sophia's birthday. She does not have many friends in Houston, so she asked me to have a drink with her."

"Okay."

I picked up my bag and headed to the door.

"Rachel!" Michael called out heavily.

I turned back in confusion.

He looked at me in disbelief.

"Why are you not stopping me this time?"

I tilted my head, wondering what had gotten into him today.

I glanced at my watch. "I am running late. We will talk later."

I saw him standing there, feeling stunned.

This was how he always treated me.

Whenever we had unresolved issues, he remained calm, making me feel like I was performing a solo act.

I tried to provoke him to get his attention.

He would always find an excuse to leave, sometimes not even bothering with an excuse, just slamming the door and leaving me to deal with my emotions alone.

As I closed the door, I could not help but think that avoiding problems felt pretty good.

No wonder he did it so often.

Today, Michael treated the whole company to desserts.

Colleagues were guessing, "Did we win another project? Why is Mr. Smith so happy?"

"Do you think we reached the annual target early?"

I laughed. They were all wrong.

Today was Sophia's birthday.

He wanted to treat one person, so he used the excuse of treating the whole company to desserts.

Maybe it was to make Sophia happy.

But it did not matter to me anymore.

I did not expect to receive a message from Michael that afternoon.

[How was the little cake?]

When I saw this message, I was momentarily stunned.

Was he texting the wrong person?

I looked at my desk, seeing the mango cake with melted cream.

Only then did I notice it was from my favorite dessert shop, not cheap and with a long wait.

Michael sure was generous with Sophia.

I did not plan to reply, but another message popped up.

[It is your favorite blueberry flavor.]

I chuckled. He did text the wrong person.

The cake on my desk was mango flavored.

The blueberry one he initially sent me had been swapped by Sophia.

She came to my desk. "Oh? I wondered where my blueberry cake went. It was here."

"This is Michael's special pick for me. It is their signature flavor."

After saying that, she tossed a box onto my desk.

I had not touched it all day.

Now it was inedible, and I was allergic to mango.

I threw it into the trash.

When I looked up, I saw Michael standing in front of me, staring intently.

He glanced at me, then at the trash can.

His lips tightened into a straight line.

Michael's office was on a higher floor. He rarely came to the project department. I wondered why he was here.

The answer quickly became clear.

Sophia happily clung to Michael's arm.

"Michael, I told you to wait for me in the garage. Coming to the office is not a good look."

Before I could speak, the people around us made disapproving noises.

These were people I had mentored, naturally disapproving of Sophia's actions.

Michael's cold gaze silenced them.

After leaving the office, Michael did not come home all night.

Before, I would have been paranoid, calling him incessantly, demanding to know where he was.

But this time, I did not.

I went to bed and went to work as usual.

To my surprise, he did not show up at the office the next day, and neither did Sophia.

That night, Michael returned home as I was finishing dinner and heading upstairs.

He grabbed my hand and asked, "Are you not going to ask where I have been?"

I looked at him calmly. "How do you want me to ask?"

He suddenly got angry. "Rachel, you did not use to be like this."

I thought for a moment and nodded, "Yeah, you used to be like me."

He lowered his head and softened his tone. "I drank a lot last night and slept at the hotel. Nothing happened between Sophia and me."

Then, looking somewhat aggrieved, he added, "I drank so much, and you did not even call me."

I did not know what game he was playing.

He used to find my calls annoying.

His clumsy attempt to cover up was amusing.

The next day, I received a message from Sophia.

It was a pregnancy test report, showing she was eight weeks pregnant.

There was also a photo of Michael accompanying Sophia for a prenatal check-up.

I froze in place.