Chapter 7
Frederick returned to the manor.
When he inserted the key into the lock, he froze.
There were still Evelyn’s fingerprints on the doorknob.
He stood at the entrance, stared at the knob for what seemed an age.
Finally, he pushed the door open. The house was completely dark.
The air still carried the scent of that night-stale, sour, of the rotting food.
He walked to the dining room.
Four dishes sat on the table, all covered with mold.
The chopsticks and bowls were still set for two.
Frederick touched one of the bowls. His fingers trembled, and he jerked his hand back.
He remembered the night he’d thrown the divorce papers at her.
Frederick clenched his fists, slamming his fists on the table.
The dishes shattering to the floor.
He gasped for air, his eyes red-rimmed and wild.
His phone rang. It was Isabella.
“Frederick…” Her voice was tentative. “Where are you? Can I come find you?”
“No.” Frederick’s voice was hoarse. “Don’t call me again.”
“Why? Frederick, are you still mad at me? I really didn’t know Evelyn-”
“You knew.” Frederick cut her off. “That night at the gym, you didn’t even see her.”
Silence stretched across the line.
“Frederick, I… I just didn’t want you to get fooled again by her…”
“So you fooled me?” Frederick let out a bitter laugh. “Isabella, you really know how to do the right thing.”
“I wasn’t lying! I was trying to protect you!” Isabella’s voice rose. “Frederick, Evelyn did this before,pretending
to be sick. Don’t you remember? How was I supposed to know it was real this time?”
Frederick closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
“Yeah, how were you supposed to know. I don’t know either.” He laughed at himself, bitterly. “So she died.”
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“Frederick…”
Frederick hung up and blocked her number outright.
He sank onto the sofa, pulling out that letter and reading it word by word.
By the time he reached the end, he pressed the paper against his forehead, bending forward.
His shoulders shook violently.
In the middle the of night, he dug out old photos of Evelyn.
On their wedding day, she’d been smiling so wide her eyes crinkled, holding her bouquet, looking so careful,
so hopeful.
He remembered her saying, “Frederick, I’ll take good care of you.”
He’d nodded absentmindedly, not even meeting her gaze.
He flipped further.
Evelyn stood in the kitchen, apron tied around her waist, turning to smile at him.
It was her first time cooking.
The dish was burnt. She’d rubbed her hands nervously. “Frederick, maybe we should just order takeout?”
He’d dred his chopoppsticks and snapped, “Can’t you learn like everyone else? You can’t even cook a decent
meal.”
Evelyn had stood there, eyes welling up, head bowed. “I’m sorry.”
Frederick stared at the photo, his hands shaking so badly he could barely hold his phone.
He thought of the three years they’d been married.
The times she’d lowered her head and apologized.
She’d said “I’m sorry” so many times, he couldn’t even count.
But he’d never once said it back.
Frederick tossed the phone onto the sofa and headed upstairs.
He pushed open the bedroom door. The bed was still unmade.
Evelyn had left without even straightening the sheets.
He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to touch the pillow.
Her hair was still there-long, dark.
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He picked up a strand, holding it in his palm.
It was so light, as if it might shatter at the slightest touch.
Frederick clenched his fist, crushing the strand in his hand.
He bowed his head, his shoulders convulsing.
“Evelyn…” His voice was a hoarse whisper, almost inaudible. “Come back… Just come back and yell at me,
okay?”
No answer.
The room was silent except for his breathing.
Frederick lay down on the bed, burying his face in Evelyn’s pillow.
The scent of her was faint, as if it were fading away.
He closed his eyes, tears slipping down his cheeks, soaking into the pillowcase.
Half-asleep, he thought he heard Evelyn calling him.
“Frederick, come back and eat.”
“Frederick, it’s raining outside,remember your umbrella.”
“Frederick, I bought you your favorite candy.”
He jerked awake.
The room was still dark. Nothing was there.
Frederick sat up, hugging his knees, curling into himself.
He remembered Evelyn’s last phone call.
She’d sounded weak, her voice barely there.
He’d told her she was faking it.
He’d told her to call 911.
He’d told her to stop bothering him..
Frederick covered his face, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling hard.
It hurt.
But the pain was nothing compared to the ache in his chest.
As dawn approached, he got out of bed and went downstairs.
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He pulled a diary from the drawer and began to flip through it.
When he reached the last page, his hands trembled so much he could barely turn it.
“Frederick, I’m sorry.
I know you hate me. I hate myself too.
But I just couldn’t stop wanting to take care of you, to know where you were, what you were doing.
Grandma says it’s my duty.
But I know it’s my selfishness.
I just liked you too much.
Liked you so much that seeing you talk to other women made me want to die.
I’m sorry.
I won’t bother you anymore.
When I’m gone, you’ll be free.
Live well.
Don’t blame yourself.”
Frederick closed the diary and hugged it to his chest.
He bowed his head, shoulders shaking uncontrollably.
Outside, the sky brightened.
Sunlight streamed in, falling on him.
But he felt cold-cold to the bone.
Chapter 7
