Chapter 8
When I showed up at the doorstep with my suitcase, my parents were momentarily taken aback.
My mom looked at me for a few moments, her voice filled
with emotion:
“Eva! What brings you back so suddenly?”
Even my dad, who usually kept his feelings in check, had
tears in his eyes.
My mom quickly ushered me inside.
She started bustling around the kitchen to fix me something
to eat.
Before long, the dining table was laid out with my favorite beef stew and pasta.
Dad encouraged me to dig in.
I devoured the pasta quickly, leaving not a drop of sauce
behind.
Only after I finished did my dad ask:
“Why have you brought so much luggage this time?”
I wiped my mouth before replying:
“I couldn’t get used to the food overseas, so I decided to come back.”
For a moment, my parents were stunned.
After a while, my mom still seemed a bit incredulous.
“Do you mean you’re not going back?”
I hugged her shoulders and nodded firmly:
“Yes, I’m staying here with you!”
She gave me a playful glance, muttering about who needed
me around.
But her smile grew brighter and brighter.
My dad then asked about Dorian, whether he was staying
overseas alone.
Dorian had left for abroad not long after our marriage, so he hadn’t spent much time with my parents. They barely knew
each other.
I honestly told them that Dorian and I had divorced.
After a long pause, my dad sighed.
“As long as you’re happy, that’s what matters.‘
That night, I lay in my own bed, dreaming sweet dreams all
night long.
I had specifically requested a week’s leave from work.
I took my parents on a little vacation to travel around.
Their smiles grew more frequent as the days passed.
In contrast to my relaxing life back home, Dorlan was in the U.S., discovering that I had sold the house.
When he went there looking for me, he rang the doorbell
repeatedly but got no answer.
Just then, a realtor arrived with potential buyers.
Only then did Dorian realize I had sold the place.
He kept calling me, but all he heard was, “Sorry, the number you have dialed is not available.”
Dorian went to my office, but the manager informed him I had applied to return home.
In a shaky voice, he asked when I had applied.
The manager didn’t hesitate before saying:
“She applied on her birthday.”
As Dorian left my office, memories of that day kept replaying in his mind.
He couldn’t understand why I’d suddenly decided to return just because he had forgotten my birthday and mentioned a
sham divorce.
Dorian was certain there was something he didn’t know.
But he needed to find me to ask and get everything clear.
That very day, he booked a flight back home.
However, upon arrival, Dorian couldn’t recall where my parents lived.
He had to resort to his old connections, trying to find me
He had to resort to his old connections, trying to find me
through my company.
But they informed him I was on vacation.
Dorian tried to contact my friends.
Yet, despite searching through his entire contact list, he couldn’t find a single number for any of my friends.
He didn’t even have my parents‘ number.
At that moment, Dorian realized he knew nothing about me.
He had to book a room at a hotel near my office.
He kept calling me incessantly.
Finally, after countless calls, I picked up.
I calmly asked him what he wanted.
Out of habit, Dorian’s voice carried a hint of accusation.
“Why did you sell the house? What about me?”
I replied, bewildered, “Wasn’t that house bought by me?”
Back then, Dorian had expressed a desire to have a place of
our own.
So, I worked long hours, tirelessly closing deals, until I finally bought that house.
I had wanted to put his name on it too.
But Dorian had refused.
He kept calling me incessantly.
Finally, after countless calls, I picked up.
I calmly asked him what he wanted.
Out of habit, Dorian’s voice carried a hint of accusation.
“Why did you sell the house? What about me?”
I replied, bewildered, “Wasn’t that house bought by me?”
Back then, Dorian had expressed a desire to have a place of
our own.
So, I worked long hours, tirelessly closing deals, until I finally bought that house.
I had wanted to put his name on it too.
But Dorian had refused.
“Dorian, that was my house!”
Before he could respond, I continued, “I’ve already handed the divorce over to the lawyers.”
“If there’s anything, contact them directly.”
With that, I hung up, not caring what else Dorian might want
