Love Like a Torrent Chapter 2

The fork and knife clattered to the floor.

Mia’s mouth fell open, her eyes wide with disbelief. I repeated myself, my voice flat. "Phillip. Is cheating. On me."

I pulled out the video I’d recorded and placed my phone in front of her. "So," I said, "I'm probably getting a divorce."

It finally dawned on her that I wasn't joking. She slammed her fist on the table, her face contorted with rage. "Where is that bastard right now? Take me to him! I'm going to kill him!"

The truth is, the moment I saw Phillip shielding that woman, a part of me wanted to storm out of the car and demand an explanation. But I never fight a battle I haven't prepared for. I wouldn't let myself be the one at a disadvantage.

What if he'd already slept with her?

If I stormed out then and there, all I would accomplish is becoming a spectacle for sympathetic onlookers before completely blowing things up with Phillip, leaving the third party to reap all the rewards.

I refused.

Even in a moment like this, I was weighing the pros and cons. "I need to find out who that woman is," I told Mia.

She wasn't particularly beautiful, or even as young as me. In fact, she looked more like Phillip's older sister. And yet, for this utterly unremarkable person, I had seen raw pain and deep affection in Phillip's eyes.

"I've already got someone looking into it," I said calmly. "I'm sure the truth will come out very soon."

Phillip came home just before dawn.

He leaned in to kiss my lips, his hand sliding up my waist, trying to slip off my nightgown. I grabbed his wrist, my eyes snapping open to meet his, which were clouded with desire. I wanted to ask him, Didn't she satisfy you?

But I swallowed the sarcastic words and the nausea rising in my throat. I just frowned. "I don't feel well."

Instantly, his expression shifted to one of deep concern. The moment his forehead touched mine, I was hit by a wave of perfume that wasn't his. The cloying scent was so overpowering that I couldn't control it anymore. I shoved him away, scrambled out of bed, and ran to the bathroom, collapsing over the toilet and retching until the world spun.

"What's wrong?" Phillip's frantic voice came from behind me. "You were fine yesterday! How did you get so sick all of a sudden?"

He placed his hands on my shoulders, and the touch sent another wave of revulsion through me. I heaved again, my eyes stinging. When the sickness finally subsided, I told him, my voice raw, to get away from me.

Tears streamed down my face, hot and involuntary. My throat felt like it had been scraped with razor blades, making it painful to even speak.

"Phillip, I just want to sleep."

I ignored the flash of hurt in his eyes as he stood there, helpless. A part of me desperately wanted to lay it all out, to ask him what game he was playing, who this performance was for. But I couldn't. A cold, rational voice in my head reminded me that Phillip and I were too deeply entangled, our lives and finances woven together over the years.

I had to be fully prepared.

"I'd like some congee," I told him.

My stomach has always been weak. To take care of me, Phillip had learned to cook, specifically my favorite Cantonese dishes, and he’d perfected the art of making congee. "As long as I'm around," he used to say, "I'll never let you end up in the hospital with gastritis again."

Back then, those words were the sweetest promises. Now, they were knives, twisting in my heart, leaving me a bloody, mangled mess.

I thought I was giving him an out, a simple task to perform.

But he was stubborn. "We're going to the hospital first," he insisted. "If you're okay, I'll come back and make you congee."

He brought me my coat. "But I have to know that you're really okay."