I Left You in the Past

It was eleven in the morning when I came home from the hospital.

The anesthesia had worn off completely, and my chest felt as if a breath were trapped inside it, pressing so hard I could barely stand it.

I leaned against the wall for a long while before I finally had enough strength to open the door.

The smell of soup hit me first. Then came Adrian Prescott's familiar voice.

"Don't rush it. You need enough patience to make a good pot of soup."

The next second, Sophie Lane's cheerful voice floated over.

"But I've never had patience since I was little. Mr. Prescott, Adrian, can I come to you whenever I want soup from now on?"

Adrian's voice carried a slight smile. "Sure."

I set my medicine by the entryway and slowly changed my shoes while holding on to the wall.

Sophie heard the movement and came out of the kitchen. When she saw me, she smiled.

"Hi, Mrs. Prescott. I heard you were being discharged today, so I shamelessly dragged Mr. Prescott to your home. I wanted to make you some nourishing soup with him."

Adrian came out after her, wearing an apron, standing shoulder to shoulder with her.

"You're back. You look pale. Have more chicken soup later and build yourself up."

But I had told him more than twenty times that I didn't eat chicken.

This time, I didn't want to say it again.

I watched as the two of them went back into the kitchen together.

Sophie's delighted voice drifted out.

"Is it ready?"

"Here."

Her voice turned surprised and pleased. "You're really letting me have some first? Isn't that a little inappropriate?"

Adrian said gently, "There's nothing inappropriate about it. Taste it and see if the salt is right."

I lowered my head and looked at my handbag. Inside was the divorce agreement.

When I came back to myself, Sophie was standing wilted beside Adrian, her eyes red.

He looked at me with displeasure.

"Sophie meant well. She wanted to pick you up from the hospital with me, and she bought all the groceries today. Why are you making that face?"

I glanced at the dining table.

Besides the chicken I had never touched since childhood, there was fried liver and onions, spicy tripe stew, chitterlings, braised sweetbreads, a plate of collard greens...

Every dish was covered with a heavy handful of cilantro.

I remembered that when we were dating, Adrian had remembered that I didn't eat organ meats or cilantro.

Back then, he had even joked that I was such a picky eater it wouldn't be easy to fatten me up.

But after only five years of marriage, he had forgotten everything.

Or maybe he just no longer cared.

After all, I had been hospitalized for surgery for a week, and he had not appeared once from start to finish.

Today, he said he would pick me up, but what he actually did was cook with Sophie in the home that belonged to him and me, leaving me to return on my own.

They made an entire table of food I didn't eat.

As for who loved it...

Adrian didn't touch things like chitterlings or sweetbreads either.

When we first got married, he had even said that made us destined to be family.

Now... I glanced at Sophie and tugged the corner of my mouth.

"You two eat. I don't have an appetite."

I got up and walked toward the study.

Sophie's voice came from behind me, thick with tears. "Adrian..."

Adrian soothed her gently. "Don't be upset. Courtney has a strange temper. She's not targeting you. Let's eat. Ignore her."

Sophie hesitated. "But..."

Adrian pretended to sound fierce. "I made this whole table especially for you. If you don't finish it, I'll be very angry."

Sophie burst into laughter.

"I'm not a pig. How could I eat this much?"

I didn't want to listen anymore. I closed the study door and shut out every sound from the dining room.

I took out the divorce agreement and wrote my name down stroke by stroke.

When I looked up after signing, I saw the framed photo of Adrian and me on the desk.

In the photo, his arm was around my shoulders, and he was standing very close.

I didn't understand how, in what felt like a blink, we had drifted so far apart.

It was time to separate.

The study door opened.

Adrian frowned at me.

"Courtney, what tantrum are you throwing now?

"You're twenty-nine this year, not nine. Can you be a little more mature?"