The Night I Left, He Turned Grey

When Leila got home at seven in the evening, Sean was already on the sofa, gazing darkly at her. He asked, "Why are you home so late?"

"Why are you home so early?" she asked. Didn’t he usually drive Sarah home from work?

Sean’s brows drew together. "Are you blaming me for usually being home late?"

"I wouldn’t dare." Leila set down her bag, and before she could move further, Sean asked about her resignation.

"I’ve already submitted it." She poured herself a glass of water and drank slowly. "The process takes a month."

"A whole month just to hand things over?" His eyes narrowed as he studied her slender profile. "You’d better not be lying to me."

"You already signed off on it. Why would I lie to you? That’s just how company procedure works. Nothing I can do about it." She set the glass down and turned toward the bedroom.

But Sean grabbed the hem of her shirt and said, "I’m hungry." His gaze drifted toward the kitchen.

Leila turned back and studied him for a moment. ’Why didn’t I realize he was ordering me around back then?’ she thought.

What she knew was that she needed to keep Sean from starving—his stomach was weak. If he skipped meals, the pain would flare up.

"Understood," she said, then continued toward the bedroom.

Seeing the fabric slip from his fingers, Sean stood up abruptly, strode after her, and caught her by the wrist, saying with displeasure, "What do you mean, ’Understood’?"

"I mean, I heard you." She looked up at the husband who had anger in his eyes and realized that the gentle husband she had imagined was nothing but a dream bubble—popped at the slightest touch.

"Go make dinner. I want fish soup tonight."

"There’s no fresh fish," she said, glancing toward the fridge. She hadn’t restocked anything in the past two days.

"Go buy some now." Sean didn’t release his grip.

"There won’t be any left at this hour."

She tried to pull her arm free, but his grip tightened. His eyes scanned her face again and again. "Are you being difficult with me? Because of the resignation?" 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

"Yes," she said coldly.

Sean couldn’t understand. He snapped, "What’s so special about that job paying you a few hundred dollars a month? That job has no real value to society at all. What’s there to be angry with me about?"

"Do you think a job with that kind of salary is easy to find? Let go. I’ll call the fishmonger." Leila said without any desire to argue with him.

Sean released his grip and said, "From now on, I’ll give you 1,400 dollars a month. That’s almost two and a half times your salary."

Leila’s chest tightened. So that was what she was worth. If she stayed home as a housewife and gave birth to his child, she’d get 1,400 dollars a month?

Sarah didn’t even need to do anything. She just stood there and received $417,000 a month—excluding the jewelry and luxury goods.

She made the call to the fishmonger anyway. "Mr. Carter, do you have any carp left?"

"I knew you wanted it for your husband, so I set one aside for you."

"Oh... they’re all sold out?" She talked to herself, "It’s fine. No need to set one aside for me. I’ll stop by if I need anything. Thank you, Mr. Carter. Bye."

She hung up and said, "None left."

Sean frowned.

Leila looked at him and said flatly, "Aren’t you going to ask when Ms. Lynch will be here? She’s still injured, and if she gets hurt while she’s out, she won’t be able to conduct her research properly."

Only then did Sean think of Sarah. He loosened his grip and called her.

"I’m still at the research institute," Sarah said. "My grandfather wanted to see me."

"Alright." Sean’s voice softened instantly. "What do you want for dinner? I’ll have Leila make it for you."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. She’s the one who hurt your hand. She should be the one looking after you."

"It wasn’t her fault. I was careless. But... could I have honey-glazed pork chops with rosemary for dinner?"

"Of course," Sean said without hesitation. "Text me when you’re done. I’ll come pick you up."

’He did this right in front of me, his wife,’ Leila thought. But she had become completely numb to all of it.

Sean turned to Leila and said, "Sarah wants honey-glazed pork chops with rosemary for dinner. We’re not having fish tonight."

Where was Leila supposed to get fresh rosemary at this hour? Sarah was obviously doing this on purpose. "I’m not hungry. You two go ahead," she said, pretending she had no idea what Sean was implying.

Sean’s warmth instantly faded. "I’m not asking you to eat it. I’m telling you to make it so Sarah can eat it when she gets here."

"Am I your maid, Sean?" Leila asked.

A flicker of sadness stung Sean, who replied, "No."

"Okay, then."

"But you injured Sarah’s hand. You’re responsible for looking after her until she recovers."

"I told you. I didn’t do that," Leila said, word by word, her eyes locked on him. Normally, people would investigate before drawing a conclusion. But they were husband and wife—that was more than just "normal."

And Sean, who used to hug her from behind when she was down, who kept her company and promised a bright future, was gone. So was the Sean who swore to stay by her side regardless of money or circumstances. He had lost faith and patience. He only repeated his orders: "Make honey-glazed pork chops with rosemary for dinner!"

Just one more month, Leila thought. One last month, and it’ll be done.

She told herself to hold on and then said, "Fine. Go pick her up, and I’ll make it."

Sean finally seemed satisfied and reached out to pat her head. "Thanks for your hard work."

That was a gesture for a pet dog. Leila lowered her gaze and tried to hide her emotions.

As the door closed, she stood there for a long moment, staring at the doorway.

Then she picked up her phone and called for takeout. "Hello, I’d like one order of honey-glazed pork chops with rosemary. And add one of each of your signature dishes."

The food arrived before Sean and Sarah. Leila transferred everything onto plates and took the trash downstairs. As she dropped the bag into the bin, she heard laughter approaching. It was them.

They seemed to be talking about something funny—Sarah laughed so hard she almost stumbled. Sean reached out to steady her and was about to wrap his arm around her shoulder when he withdrew. It was Leila standing in front of them.

Sarah noticed the shift in his gesture and looked in her direction. "Oh, hey, Leila—taking out the trash?"

"Yeah, food waste," Leila said, her eyes on her.

Sarah smiled, seemingly in a good mood. "Sean said you made honey-glazed pork chops with rosemary! That’s my favorite. Thank you for your hard work. Let’s hurry inside—I want to try Leila’s cooking. You always say she takes such good care of you, and now it’s my turn to experience that."

Sean sped up and stopped beside Leila, his voice soft. "Come on, let’s go home."

Home? What was that?

Leila glanced up at the apartment that was supposed to be her home. It was just a place for her to stay temporarily.

Sarah’s smile dimmed slightly as she watched Leila and Sean walk in shoulder to shoulder. Did he fall for her? But they hadn’t slept together since the wedding.

Sarah followed them inside. As the three of them entered the apartment, Sarah slipped on Leila’s slippers without hesitation—even though they were too small for her.

Sean said, "They’re just slippers. What’s the big deal? Use the guest ones, okay?"

But this was her home, and she was being asked to wear guest shoes? Leila was about to grab a pair of slippers when she spotted the pink bunny slippers. She put them on instead.

Sean felt something stir inside him when he saw her bending down to put them on. He said, "Sarah, those are Leila’s. She’s not used to other pairs. I’ll get you another pair, okay?"

Sarah gritted her teeth quietly. She sat down on the sofa with a hint of embarrassment and said softly as Sean switched the slippers for her, "Sorry, I didn’t know they were hers."

"It’s fine," Sean said and brought the pair back to Leila—who had already gone into the kitchen and was bringing out the cutlery, still wearing the pink bunny slippers.

Sean stood there, slippers in hand, feeling something hollow out in his chest. Something seemed to be slipping away.