Chapter 2

On the day I was discharged from the hospital, I took a cab home by myself.

The moment I opened the front door, I caught the scent of a cloyingly sweet women's perfume. There was a brand-new pair of burgundy high heels in the entryway, and Isabelle's suitcase was piled all over the living room couch.

Isabelle was wearing the silk robe I had only worn once. Her fair legs were bare as she leaned over the coffee table, eating cherries.

Brody was crouched in front of her. Holding a napkin, he casually wiped the red juice from the corner of her mouth, his gaze lingering on her with unmistakable affection.

The moment they saw me walk in, they sprang apart as if they had been electrocuted.

Without the slightest embarrassment, Isabelle pulled together the collar of my robe and said coyly, "You're back, Roxanne. Brody said since I kept having nightmares while living alone in my old house, he insisted that I move in with you two. You don't mind, do you?"

The comments began popping up before my eyes again.

"Here it comes! Now they can officially live together under the same roof! Next, Brody will use Roxanne's recovery from her miscarriage as an excuse to give the master bedroom to the pitiful widow."

"In the original novel, Roxanne adamantly refused. Brody slapped her and accused her of having a filthy mind for questioning the innocent nature of his attempts to repay a debt of gratitude."

Sure enough, Brody stood up and cleared his throat.

He said self-righteously, "Roxanne, you just had a miscarriage and need peace and quiet to recover. The master bedroom gets plenty of sunlight and has its own bathroom, so let's give it to Isabelle. You can move into the guest room. That way, I won't disturb you when I toss and turn at night."

Brody wanted to kick his wife, who had just suffered a miscarriage, into the guest room so his beautiful widowed lady friend could sleep in our bed. He wasn't even trying to hide it anymore.

Unlike in the original novel, I didn't question him hysterically.

I simply nodded calmly and said, "Sure."

Brody breathed a sigh of relief, and there was even a hint of approval in the way he looked at me. "Good. I'm glad you're being reasonable."

Then, I changed the subject as I walked toward the master bedroom. "However, the mattress in the master bedroom was custom-made for me. It's on the softer side. Isabelle has a bad back, so she definitely won't feel comfortable sleeping on it."

I looked at Brody encouragingly. "Since Isabelle is going to be staying here long-term, shouldn't you replace the furniture with a set made of solid hardwood? Also, all the bedding in the master bedroom is silk. Isabelle might slip and fall if she gets up to use the bathroom at night.

"You should buy a few sets of high-end cotton bedding. We can't possibly allow Isabelle to suffer while she's staying with us, can we?"

The smile on Brody's face froze. "H-Hardwood furniture? That'll cost tens of thousands of dollars. I just paid for the cemetery plot…"

I raised my voice slightly and stared into his eyes. "What? You can't bear to spend the money? You already bought a 60,600-dollar cemetery plot. What's a bit more money for furniture? Don't tell me you're only willing to spend money on the dead but not on the living."

Panic flashed through Isabelle's eyes.

Biting her lip, she looked at Brody. "I don't need any of that. I'm fine using the old furniture…"

I spoke with righteous conviction, "Isabelle, don't try to save money for him! He's about to be evaluated for promotion to director. If his colleagues find out that he's being stingy over something as simple as taking care of you, they might think he's treating you well just for show."

Brody couldn't stand anyone accusing him of putting on an act. And in front of the woman he loved, he was even more determined to play the generous spender.

"I'll buy it! I'll place the order tomorrow," he said firmly.

That night, I moved into the guest room happily and locked the door behind me. Brody was forced to make do with the living room couch for the night.

Meanwhile, I had called a secondhand furniture dealer, who came and hauled away the mattress from the master bedroom that very night. Since my bed wasn't good enough for them, they could sleep on bare wooden boards.

For the next two weeks, I fully embraced a widowed woman's sexless lifestyle as I recovered from my miscarriage. Every day, I slept until I felt like waking up and ordered upscale takeout for all three meals.