Chapter 4

As I silently calculated the divorce assets, Natalie set the meal in front of me.

She nagged while making me coffee.

"Asher, can you be mature? We were planning to have a child after this year. How am I supposed to trust that you can be a good father when you act like this?"

The words made me sick. Was she a good mother?

Would a good mother sleep with someone else on the second day of her marriage, then stand there self-righteously accusing the innocent person?

Just as I was about to say that to her, the doorbell rang.

Natalie and I looked at each other. She paused, then said slowly, "Did you forget? It's your birthday today. Ashton made a cake specially to celebrate."

As soon as she finished speaking, she hurried over and opened the door.

Ashton revealed a sweet smile. His arm was scraped from yesterday's accident, but it was nothing serious.

His gaze moved to me, open and natural. "Happy birthday, Asher."

I didn't know how his skin could be that thick. Even though he knew perfectly well I hated him, he had still rushed over to disgust me.

But why did my birthday have to accommodate him?

It was too unfair.

So I said, each word clear, "When you're here, I'm not happy."

The moment I finished, Ashton's face stiffened. He lowered his head, at a loss.

Natalie turned to look at me coldly. "Enough. Stop making a scene."

For the past two years, whenever Ashton was involved, that seemed to be what she said most often. Stop making a scene.

I clenched my jaw until my tongue hurt, then smiled faintly.

It felt pointless. I turned and sat back at the dining table.

Ashton laughed when he passed me. The sound was short and pleased, as if he were mocking my overestimation of myself.

Natalie glanced at me a few times, then deliberately cut me a large slice of cake.

Just like before, whenever she upset me, she would use snacks to coax me.

I ate a few bites without thinking. Then a sudden itch spread across my body.

The instant I realized what was happening, the fork fell from my hand and clattered against the plate.

I looked at Ashton. "Did you put chestnut powder in this?"

Panic slowly appeared in his eyes, like a clumsy actor pretending innocence.

"What's wrong?"

I was allergic to chestnut powder. Ashton knew that better than anyone.

All the little details I had deliberately ignored began flooding back.

The suit that somehow got ruined at a party. The exam paper he had splashed ink onto. The love letter I asked him to deliver to a girl I liked, which later turned out to have a caterpillar inside.

Every single incident had made me lose face in public.

Why would someone so thoughtful always slip up at the most critical moments?

There was only one reason. He didn't want me to do well.

Rage spread through my limbs, and my head buzzed.

I pointed at the door and said through gritted teeth, "Get out of my house."

The chair scraped across the floor with an ugly screech. Natalie's face went livid as she stepped in front of Ashton.

"Asher Wells, this is my home too. You don't have the right to kick anyone out."

My throat slowly swelled. My heart began to race, but Natalie was still talking nonstop.

She saw the redness in Ashton's eyes, but she couldn't see that I was about to suffocate.

I turned in panic to search the medicine box. Natalie grabbed me.

The box fell from my hand and hit the floor. Medicine bottles rolled everywhere in every color.

Natalie held on to me, her eyes full of nothing but condemnation. "Asher Wells, apologize right now. You've gone too far."

My hand stretched uselessly toward the medicine bottles on the floor. My face slowly flushed red.

Under her gradually panicked stare, I used the last of my strength to slap her across the face.

With a hoarse, desperate voice, I shouted, "I'm having an allergic reaction. I can't breathe."