Chapter 9
“Christopher, are you okay? How’s Mel—” Outside the bathroom, Cynthia stared at Christopher, who looked disheveled, her eyes full of concern.
“I’m okay. I’ll go change my clothes,” Christopher replied angrily.
Cynthia started to open the bathroom door, but Christopher stopped her. He pressed his hand against the glass door and said furiously, “Don’t go in. That crazy woman will splash water on you. She should be in a psychiatric hospital.”
“I’m sure Melody didn’t do it on purpose. Don’t be mad at her,” Cynthia said, trying to ease the tension. However, Christopher cursed more vehemently.
In the bathroom, Melody overheard their conversation. She hugged her knees, sitting on the floor. Biting her lip, she clenched her fists as resentment overwhelmed her. Christopher and Cynthia were perfect for each other, she thought bitterly; they should be together forever. She should have interfered two years ago, she shouldn't have agreed to marry Christopher just because of youthful feelings. Now, she suffered the consequences.
The cold water continued to run over the wound, numbing her. Melody’s eyes blurred, and she sobbed uncontrollably. She felt numb and utterly drained.
Meanwhile, Christopher was changing in the master bedroom. The door opened gently, and Cynthia entered. He turned, subconsciously buttoning his shirt.
Cynthia slowly approached him, her gaze gentle and affectionate. She smiled seductively and asked softly, “Why are you so sly? Haven’t I seen everything?”
Although Cynthia’s statement was true, Christopher felt slightly embarrassed. He mumbled, “Just wait for me outside.”
Cynthia didn’t reply; she was already in front of him, reaching out to fasten his shirt. “I deliberately learned this because of you, thinking I could do this for you every day,” she murmured, her voice soft, tinged with dejection and sadness.
Christopher looked at her. Their eyes met. Her heavy eyes, filled with grievance and jealousy, questioned, “Has Melody been doing this for you these two years?”
“No. I’ve never let her touch me,” Christopher replied instantly. “I’m the only one who stays in this room. I don’t sleep with her.”
Cynthia flashed a bright smile. She looked up and approached him slowly, pleased to find no trace of another woman in the room. She pressed her lips against his, then closed her eyes, gently stroking his Adam’s apple. She felt it bobbing and grinned.
Christopher remained still, neither responding nor pushing her away. He should have been thinking of the woman he loved, but the scent of Cynthia’s perfume filled his nostrils. He remembered Melody’s lack of perfume and the natural scent in her room the night before.
He cursed himself silently. Why was he thinking of Melody? He grabbed the back of Cynthia’s neck and kissed her deeply—an aggressive kiss. Cynthia was pleased and excited, but Christopher was merely venting his anger; he didn’t understand his own rage.
They stopped kissing, both slightly breathless. Cynthia placed an arm around his neck, her hand gripping the hem of his shirt. Her eyes misted; she seemed about to kiss him again when he pushed her away.
“You must be hungry. I’ll take you out to eat. That crazy woman is home. What a mess,” he said.
Cynthia, disappointed but unyielding, helped him put on his jacket. They walked past the corridor, and Christopher, picking up a book, noticed the bathroom door was still closed.
“Christopher, I want grilled meat,” Cynthia said coquettishly.
“Okay. There’s a new restaurant serving Korean cuisine. I’ll take you,” Christopher replied, withdrawing his gaze.
The living room door closed, leaving a heavy silence. Some time later, the bathroom door opened. Melody, drenched and cold, returned to her room. She wiped herself with a towel, changed her clothes, and limped out to go to the hospital.
Passing the kitchen, she saw the cold, untouched dishes she had prepared. She scoffed sarcastically and left. They’d made her cook but hadn’t eaten a bite. They’d planned to discard her from the start.
Using her cracked phone, she called the building’s cleaner. “Ma’am, I want to throw the dishes away, too?” the cleaner asked. “It would be better to feed them to the strays,” Melody replied indifferently, ending the call. It would be better to feed the strays than let Christopher eat them.