My Husband Kept Protecting His Apprentice, So I Stopped Being His Wife

2: 2

2.

Both of them turned at the same time, still busy at the stove. Antony's face went tight, but even now he didn't dare lose his temper. Rachel's eyes welled up again.

She looked at me, tears trembling on her lashes. "Ebony, is it something I did wrong? Just tell me and I'll fix it."

I said nothing.

When I stayed silent, she cast a wounded glance at Antony, then untied the apron. "I'm sorry. I overstepped. I'll go right now."

She hung the apron on the wall, and when she reached the door, her steps suddenly stopped. I knew she was waiting for Antony to ask her to stay.

Antony clenched his fists, not daring to look at her, and only said softly, "Rachel, be careful on the way back."

When the answer she wanted didn't come, she grabbed the bag beside the shoe cabinet and ran out without looking back.

She left still wearing my pajamas.

The apartment went terrifyingly quiet in an instant. Antony saw it and put on an awkward smile. "Dinner's almost ready."

Half an hour later.

Everything he'd made was food I liked. He put a piece of sweet-and-sour pork ribs on my plate. "Ebony, be as angry as you want, but don't play games with your own body."

We were each other's first love.

Getting this far hadn't been easy, and the way he was acting right now was pure effort to win me back.

I let out a long sigh, and half the anger inside me faded. I took a small bite of the ribs. "Too sweet."

Seeing that I'd finally spoken, the tightness in Antony's face eased.

"That's my fault. I haven't cooked in a few days, so I'm out of practice. It's fine, I'll cook for you every day from now on."

He was working this hard to please me, and I'm not the type to push my luck.

The next second he sat down beside me again, slid an arm around my waist, rested his head on my shoulder, and coaxed, "Ebony, don't be angry anymore. I'll go buy a durian right now and kneel on the shell. If that's not enough, then, then I'll kneel on a washboard."

I couldn't hold back a laugh.

Fine.

"All right. I'll forgive you today. Don't ever do this again."

He shot to his feet and even bowed to me, pinching his voice thin. "Thank you for your mercy, my lady."

After that, he really didn't bring Rachel home again.

Antony's company and mine were just one building apart.

This morning, after a meeting, I remembered that when he'd dropped me off, I'd left a document in his car.

But when I got to the front of his building, I saw Rachel getting out of the car with him.

A client was walking behind them.

Just then the client said, "Mr. Henson, you and your wife really get along."

I thought Antony would explain. Instead he smiled and answered, "You're joking, Mr. Finch."

Rachel stood beside him, all bashful, and hooked her arm through his.

Well.

No wonder he'd been so well-behaved this past month. His company had just changed locations.

Maybe the look I was giving them was too sharp. Antony suddenly glanced my way, and the second he saw me, he pried Rachel's hand off at once.

Rachel asked, all confusion, "Honey, are you feeling okay? Your face doesn't look right."

I clapped my hands as I walked over. "Huh. Funny, I didn't know my husband had divorced me."

The client clearly turned to look at me, a little bewildered too.

I stopped in front of them, gave the client a polite smile first, then looked at Antony. "Well? Aren't you going to explain to your client?"

The client asked, puzzled, "Mr. Henson, who is this?"

The moment he said it, Rachel hurried to pull the client along. "Mr. Finch, look, the meeting's about to start. Let me take you up."

The client glanced at his watch, then followed Rachel off.

I said, with a smile that wasn't quite a smile, "You've got a nice little life going, Mr. Henson. One wife at home, one at the office? Maybe I should throw you a banquet one of these days."