Chapter 8

Cynthia’s weak, pitiful look snapped Christopher back to his senses. He quickly went to her and comforted her, “It has nothing to do with you. Don’t…”

She sobbed, and he helped her sit on the living room sofa. His voice was gentle as he consoled her.

Melody heard this from the kitchen and found it irritating. Christopher had never shown her such gentleness before. However, she no longer craved such treatment. She simply wanted to leave as soon as possible. She composed herself and continued preparing the food.

Getting a divorce proved more difficult than she expected. She thought Christopher would sign the papers without hesitation, but now she had to consider other options. Although he didn’t love her, he seemed determined to torture her. This, she felt, was her deserved punishment for the past ten years.

In the living room, after some time, Cynthia leaned against Christopher’s chest, enjoying his gentle attention. Her feelings for him hadn’t changed. She wondered why he refused a divorce. Melody had even brought it up herself. It was as though his feelings were… unreadable.

Cynthia looked up, but couldn’t bring herself to ask what she wanted to know. It would be too obvious, and it would damage the image she had carefully cultivated.

Christopher patted Cynthia’s back gently, but he seemed distracted. Melody’s request for a divorce, and her indifference, secretly unsettled him; he felt as if he were about to lose something. But eventually, he calmed down and dismissed his unease. Melody was deeply in love with him; why would she divorce him? She simply wanted his attention, he reasoned.

An hour later, Melody was almost finished preparing the food. Just then, Cynthia approached and said, affectedly, “Mel, I’ll help you bring out the food.”

“It’s okay,” Melody replied apathetically.

Cynthia sneered, catching sight of the hem of a garment. She deliberately stepped forward to take a plate. Melody was holding a plate of braised beef, piping hot from the stove. Cynthia reached over Melody to grab it.

Melody stepped back, but the plate slipped from Cynthia’s hand. The braised beef landed on the floor and Melody’s feet.

Instantly, searing pain brought tears to Melody’s eyes. Before she could react, Cynthia cried out, “Ah! My hand! It’s bleeding!”

Christopher rushed into the kitchen. He saw Melody clutching her foot and pushing Cynthia away.

“Melody Smith, murder is a crime! Do you want to go to jail?” Christopher roared, pushing Melody away.

Melody was already in agony from the burn. The push sent her body crashing against the wall, sending her stumbling to the ground. Her already fragile bones, still healing from a previous injury, were badly hurt again. She burst into tears.

Christopher, holding Cynthia, reached the doorway. He heard the cry and instinctively turned, seeing Melody’s body and feet covered in food and sauce.

“There’s so much blood…,” Cynthia wailed, instantly regaining Christopher’s attention. He helped her to the couch and fumbled with the first-aid kit to stem the bleeding. After examining the wound, he saw it was barely a scratch. It stopped bleeding after he wiped it.

“I’m really scared of pain. I’m afraid of getting hurt, Christopher, you know that,” Cynthia sobbed.

Christopher applied a Band-Aid, sat beside her, and hugged her. Feeling remorseful, he said in a low voice, “I know, I know you’re scared of pain because you were bullied in the orphanage when you were young.”

It was the darkest period of Cynthia’s life. Christopher wished he could go back twenty years to protect that weak, pitiful girl.

As the two embraced, Melody, supporting herself on the kitchen doorframe, staggered out. Looking towards the couch, her vision blurred with tears. Christopher had accused her of trying to murder Cynthia. When had he seen that? Her feet were burned by the hot braised beef; she had blisters on the same spots injured the day before. She didn’t even know how Cynthia injured her hand, yet she was being blamed.

She slumped and hunched, entering the bathroom to clean herself. Christopher heard her footsteps and turned to look, but remained seated until she disappeared from view.

In the bathroom, Melody turned on the shower. She intended to use warm water, but the hot water scalded her skin. She bit her lip and used cold water to wash away the food residue. The small blisters burst under the force of the water; the sauce and water irritated her skin, causing excruciating pain. However, the pain in her heart surpassed the physical agony. She closed her eyes, remembering Christopher pulling her away.

She had thought the worst she could feel was a loss of love, but now she felt hate, resentment. Why did he have to torture her like this? Why with Cynthia? Did she truly deserve this treatment?

Tears streamed down her face. Just then, someone entered, saying, “You—”

That single word made Melody whirl around, crying out, “Get lost! Get away from me!” She shoved the showerhead at Christopher. He raised his arm to block it, instantly enraged.

“What the hell are you doing? Are you insane?”

Various items—the pail, showerhead, even the toilet brush—were flung about. Christopher was forced to back away, looking furious. He slammed the door shut, cursing, “You’re a freaking psycho!”

He had come to check on her out of concern, only to be yelled at and drenched with water. At that moment, he felt a surge of anger that bordered on violence.