Chapter 3

When we arrived at the Kingsley residence, a four or five-year-old child ran over. He hugged Tristan's leg and looked at me with his head tilted.

"Daddy, who's this lady?"

Tristan's body stiffened.

His Adam's apple bobbed, his tone carrying a hint of nervousness. "Susie, this is the child you pushed back then. His name is Andy. He's four years old now. Don't be angry."

He was waiting for my reaction.

Five years ago, I would have been angry.

Nora had stood at the top of the stairs with her pregnant belly, smiling as she told me, "Susie, the one who isn't loved is the real mistress."

I pushed her.

Later, Tristan said I'd gone crazy and sent me to the academy.

At the academy, the walls of the isolation room were covered with photos of Nora and that child.

The instructor said those were the people I'd harmed, and I had to look at them every day until I learned to repent.

I looked at photos of that child for five years.

Now he was right in front of me, alive and real, able to run and jump, calling Tristan "Daddy."

I crouched down and touched his head.

Hatred was too much of a luxury. It required too much energy, and I didn't have that kind of energy anymore.

"I'm not angry." I looked up at Tristan, my voice calm.

Tristan stared at me, his brow furrowing.

He suddenly pulled Andy away, his tone stiff. "Since you're not angry, let's go inside for dinner!"

I didn't know what he was unhappy about. This was exactly what he'd wanted me to learn.

During dinner, Nora placed a piece of fish on my plate.

"Susie, the kitchen specially made this steamed fish. Eat more to nourish your body."

I looked at the snow-white piece of fish in my bowl.

I was allergic to fish.

When Tristan and I had just gotten married, I accidentally ate some fish sauce and had an immediate breathing difficulty. They had to resuscitate me for a full day and night.

After that, fish never appeared on the Kingsley family's dinner table again.

Nora blinked. "Oh my, did I remember wrong? I thought Tristan said Susie loved eating this."

Tristan didn't look up, busy peeling shrimp for Andy. "Just eat what she gives you."

I picked up my chopsticks.

At the academy, I'd also resisted eating due to allergies.

Until the instructor mixed various types of fish together into a paste and force-fed it into my mouth.

I'd vomit and eat again, eat and vomit again, until I had a high fever and convulsions before they stopped.

They said they were helping me desensitize. "Miss Reed, a perfect wife can't make her husband accommodate her allergies."

I picked up the fish and put it in my mouth, chewing slowly.

Physiological nausea surged up, but I suppressed it.

One piece, two pieces.

By the time Tristan noticed something was wrong, I'd already eaten more than half.

He snatched away my chopsticks, his voice rising. "What are you doing? Susie, have you forgotten you're allergic to fish?"

I looked up. Red welts had already appeared on my face, and my breathing was becoming labored.

"Are you insane?" He was both anxious and angry, speaking without thinking. "Even if you want to frame Nora, you don't have to make it this obvious!"

I looked at Tristan's furious eyes, somewhat bewildered. "I wasn't trying to frame her. I just thought... doing this would make you happy."

Tristan froze.

His expression looked as if someone had slapped him hard across the face.

On the way to the hospital, my consciousness was fuzzy.

I vaguely felt myself being held tightly. That person's heartbeat was racing, his voice trembling slightly.

I remembered the first time I had an allergic reaction and needed resuscitation—Tristan had held me like this too.

His eyes had been red then, and he'd said, "You scared me to death, you know that?"

Back then, I believed him. I believed he truly loved me.

Later, when I was kneeling at the academy, convulsing from electric shocks, I would occasionally remember that red-eyed Tristan.

But after thinking about it for a while, I'd stop.

Because the electrical currents would still pass through my body.

The pain was still pain.