Chapter 2
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Chapter 2
Steve walked out of the hospital hand in hand with Evelyn, and I immediately recognized the scarf I had knitted for him just days ago–now draped around Evelyn’s neck.
“Steve, my feet hurt. I can’t walk anymore.”
Evelyn’s sweet, delicate voice stabbed painfully at my ears.
Without a second thought, Steve knelt down. “Come on, I’ll carry you.”
His tone was soft, nothing like the harshness he had shown me on the phone moments
before.
He carried her steadily, step by step.
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Evelyn, lying on Steve’s back, whispered playfully, “Steve, you won’t ever leave me, right?”
The snow was falling so heavily that I couldn’t hear Steve’s reply, but judging by the satisfied expression on Evelyn’s face, I could guess his answer.
Of course, when it came to Evelyn, Steve would never refuse her anything.
In the swirling snow, Steve trudged forward, carrying Evelyn on his back.
One umbrella, two people, and once again, I was left outside, just like always.
Years ago, I had naively believed that one day he would see my worth.
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Evelyn, lying on Steve’s back, whispered playfully, “Steve, you won’t ever leave me, right?”
The snow was falling so heavily that I couldn’t hear Steve’s reply, but judging by the satisfied expression on Evelyn’s face, I could guess his answer.
Of course, when it came to Evelyn, Steve would never refuse her anything.
In the swirling snow, Steve trudged forward, carrying Evelyn on his back.
One umbrella, two people, and once again, I was left outside, just like always.
Years ago, I had naively believed that one day he would see my worth.
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But from dating to marriage, and even now in death, I never received the response I longed for.
Before I knew it, Steve had brought Evelyn back to our home.
Our home!
How dare he!
I screamed, standing in front of the door, trying to block them, “Steve, you can’t bring her into our home!”
But I had forgotten–when I was alive, I couldn’t stop them. How could I now, being dead?
They couldn’t hear a word I said.
Evelyn tugged on Steve’s arm, smiling, “Let
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me do it.”
I watched her, thinking how utterly ridiculous she looked.
She didn’t have a key, nor was her fingerprint registered. How was she planning to open the door?
But the next second, reality delivered a cruel slap to my face.
Evelyn simply typed in an eight–digit code, and the door opened.
“I knew it, the password would always be a combination of our birthdays.”
Her delighted voice exploded in my ears like a thunderclap.
I stood there, humiliated, like a clown.
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I had once felt touched when Steve changed the lock to a keypad, thinking he did it for my sake, knowing I often forgot my keys.
No wonder he never told me the password.
It was just one more private joke shared between him and the woman he truly loved.
