Giving Birth to A Child with the Movie Star

7

Martin took out the box containing our wedding rings from a file.

He opened it and took out the diamond ring inside.

Grabbing my wrist, he forcibly slipped the ring onto my finger.

I've become more detached from everything, and while I was angry at Martin's actions, it wasn't enough to let my anger show, especially with Pomelo watching nearby.

I casually tossed the ring into the kitchen trash can, not bothering to look at Martin, and coldly said, "Get out."

Martin didn't look too upset. Instead, a hint of awkwardness crossed his face.

Ignoring him, he turned his attention to Pomelo, "Little girl, what's your name?"

In a sweet, childish voice, Pomelo replied, "I'm called Pomelo."

Martin asked, "Why are you here participating in this show?"

Pomelo responded, "Daddy and Mommy sent me here to make money to treat my little brother's illness."

Hearing Pomelo's words, I paused what I was doing.

Most of the kids participating in this variety show were the children of investors, celebrities, or wealthy families. How could Pomelo come from such an ordinary background?

Martin held Pomelo on his lap on the sofa, continuing, "What's wrong with your little brother?"

Pomelo lowered his head, his little face full of sadness, and shook his head, "My little brother has leukemia and needs a bone marrow transplant, but our family has no money."

The egg custard I made for Pomelo was ready.

Listening to Pomelo's words, I got lost in thought and reached for the custard bowl with my bare hands.

I screamed in pain as I burned myself, and the custard and bowl fell to the ground.

Martin saw this and quickly put Pomelo down, rushing over, "Let me see."

He grabbed my hand to check the burn.

It wasn't serious, just a bit red, but it was my first time cooking in years, and the egg custard I made for Pomelo was ruined.

Martin held my hand under cold water, scolding me, "Don't you know your own cooking skills?"

I pulled my hand back and coldly replied, "You have some nerve staying here after I told you to get out."

After a while under the cold water, my hand stopped hurting. I squatted down and said to Pomelo, "Pomelo, we'll have to order takeout for dinner tonight."

Pomelo nodded, holding my hand and blowing on it, "Mommy, Pomelo will blow on it; it won't hurt anymore."

For some reason, my nose started to sting.

Martin sneered, "If the cameras weren't off, ordering takeout would have people thinking you're abusing the kid."

He's always had a sharp tongue.

He's been like that since he was a kid.

In the past, I might have snapped back at him, but now, all I feel is a deep sense of weariness.

8

Martin said, "Give me the apron."

I immediately ordered him out, "I won't eat anything you cook. It's late. You should leave."

Martin began untying the apron I was wearing, "How about I cook something for the kid?"

Pomelo looked up at Martin, "Daddy, I have a name. I'm called Pomelo, remember?"

Martin asked, "Pomelo, what do you like to eat? Daddy will make it for you."

Pomelo glanced at me with her big, grape-like eyes and sweetly said, "Whatever Mommy likes, Pomelo likes too."

"Alright, you and Mommy go wait outside for a bit," Martin said to Pomelo before starting to search the fridge for ingredients.

I led Pomelo out of the kitchen.

Martin's cooking skills are excellent, though he rarely cooks.

Whatever he makes for Pomelo should be fine.

Pomelo took a peek into the kitchen and then said to me in her sweet voice, "Mommy, you don't seem to like Daddy, do you?"

I was speechless.

How was I supposed to answer such a deadly question from Pomelo?