The Fifth Year of Marriage to Him novel Chapter 66

Chapter 66

288 Wouchers

Chapter 66

She answered. His urgent voice came through: “Lucille, where’s my brown document pouch?”

“I don’t know.”

Her tone was icy calm.

“I left it in the suitcase lining. Where did you put it?”

Cedrick’s voice grew more frantic. “I need it for a meeting right now.”

Lucille thanked the doctor and walked out of the treatment room with her bag before replying leisurely, “The suit- case?

“I didn’t pack it. I don’t know.”

“You didn’t-?” Cedrick sounded astonished. He strode to the entryway hall and indeed found his suitcase untouched. “My case is right in the entryway. Didn’t you see it?”

“Oh, I saw it.”

She exited the hospital, not hailing a cab but strolling slowly along the street.

“So you didn’t pack it?”

Astonishment deepened in Cedrick’s voice.

“That’s right. I didn’t.”

Why should she have to?

“Where are you?

Why do I hear music?”

He pressed, his tone urgent.

“I’m shopping.”

She spoke, noticing a café beside her with outdoor seating. The so–called music was drifting from there.

“You’re shopping?

How are you even able to shop?”

She entered the café where a staff member in black politely guided her to a seat.

10:54

Chapter 66

“Are you implying a cripple like me can’t go shopping?”

Silence hung on his end before he finally spoke again. “Why didn’t you pack my suitcase?”

Was he seriously fixating on his suitcase?

“I didn’t want to.”

She sat down calmly and browsed the café menu.

288 Vonshers

The handwritten menu booklet featured elegant calligraphy and adorable illustrations, a visual delight. Yet the grating noise in her ear persisted–deeply irritating.

“Lucille, you’re still upset about what happened on the plane. Why are you so quick to anger lately?

You’re just picking on Maricela. Maricela, she-”

Lucille hung up. She hated hearing it.

Hated hearing “Maricela .” Hated hearing him speak. Hated the sound of his voice.

She ordered a sweet cappuccino and a slice of passionfruit lemon cake.

As the tangy cake melted on her tongue, she suddenly remembered a certain dusk in her sophomore year. Heading from the dorm to the classroom, she saw Cedrick in his school uniform beneath the camphor tree at twilight, holding a leaf to his lips as he softly played a popular tune of the time.

That silhouette of the boy cast a rainbow–hued mirage in her heart–a memory from her youth tasting of passion fruit and lemon.

Back then, to reach the dorm, she had to pass by him. Frozen in the fading light, she wondered if she should disturb

this scene.

He noticed first. Tossing the leaf aside, his voice was ice. “Walk faster then.”

When she glanced around confirming he spoke to her, her heart drummed wildly. His voice, clear and moving like a mountain spring, echoed the leaf’s song.

That flutter in her heart was real.

This absence of love now is equally real.

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