His Gentle Voice, His Cruel Thoughts Chapter 03
At 6:15 am, the alarm went off.
For the past five years, I would have immediately rolled out of bed to brew coffee, cook breakfast, and meticulously organize Alder’s daily schedule. But he had barely noticed.
This time, I rolled over, shut off the alarm, and went back to sleep.
When Alder returned from his morning training session at 7:00 am, the kitchen was pitch-black. The dining table was empty without oatmeal, fresh bread, or crisp bacon arranged to his liking.
He stood frozen to the spot for two seconds, then sneered.
[Is she slacking off today? Fine by me. At least I have one less thing to pretend about.]
He grabbed his car keys and walked out the door.
Standing by the bedroom window, I watched as his black sedan slowly drove past the main gates.
Usually, I would walk him all the way to the front door, kiss him goodbye, and remind him to drive safely. Today, I did none of it, and he didn’t ask why.
Even by noon, I still hadn’t texted him.
I opened our chat history and stared at our past messages. My messages were usually full of concern.
“Have you eaten yet?
“Is work going smoothly?
“I miss you already.”
As always, his replies were short.
“Busy.
“Later.
“OK.”
Five years of love, and all that was left of it were a few marks on a screen.
I closed the chat and opened another. The line barely rang twice before Randall picked up.
“Maeve?”
“Can you book me a meeting with the director of Crescent Gallery?” I asked. “I want to talk to him about hosting a solo exhibition.”
An ecstatic gasp rang out through the receiver. “Oh my goodness! I’ve been waiting for this forever!”
I smiled quietly. This time, it was a true, genuine smile.
“Do you have any idea how long that wolf has been begging me to convince you? Eight months, Maeve. Eight months!” he shrieked.
“I know.”
After hanging up, I sat in silence for a long time, gazing at the sunlight outside the window. For the first time in years, my life finally felt like it belonged to me again.
That afternoon, I drove downtown. Instead of sourcing ingredients for Alder’s favorite dishes, I was there to scout for a new apartment.
The real estate agent turned incredibly enthusiastic the moment they spotted the black card in my hand. “What kind of property are you looking for, ma’am?”
“A one-bedroom apartment in Westfield,” I replied.
“And your budget?”
“No budget.”
“Perfect! I have a few exceptional luxury listings available right now. I guarantee you’ll love them!”
When I stepped outside, the cool spring wind brushed against my cheeks. The city air smelled of wealth, loneliness, and desire, yet for some reason, it was the easiest breath I had taken in five years.
…
Alder came home early that evening.
I was curled up in the bedroom reading a book when I heard the front door open downstairs.
His footsteps stopped in the kitchen, but it was a pity that the area was cold and quiet. There was no steaming hot dinner waiting on the table, and no mouth-watering aroma drifting through the air.
“Maeve?” he called out.
Holding my book, I stepped out of the bedroom, though I never looked up from the page. “Yes?”
He loosened his tie and scanned the empty dining table.
[What the hell is going on? Why didn’t she even bother to make dinner? What kind of attitude is this?] he grumbled inwardly.
But to me, he asked, “Is everything alright? Are you feeling under the weather or something? You didn’t even cook dinner.”
“I was a little tired today,” I calmly replied. “There’s a frozen pizza in the freezer. You just have to heat it up.”
He stared at me for a beat longer than usual.
I could feel his wolf stirring restlessly within his body and the flicker of confusion deep within his eyes.
[Forget it. It’s nice to eat something different for once, instead of the same few dishes she always makes.]
After he walked into the kitchen, I heard the cabinet doors open, the rush of running tap water, and the clatter of cookware hitting the stove.
Halfway through turning a page, I paused.
Alder and I had been bonded for five years, and this was the first time he had ever cooked for himself.
Listening to the sounds coming from the kitchen, I didn’t feel a shred of guilt. Instead, I wondered why I hadn’t stopped sooner.
