Chapter 169

"You smell so good, sweetheart," Michael murmured, pulling his sleeping wife closer, breathing in the floral scent of her hair. The thought of being away for so long already made his chest ache.

Emily, who had been pretending to sleep, felt her eyelashes flutter. Is he ever going to sleep? It was the middle of the night, and he was still wide awake.

When his arm tightened around her waist, she gave up resisting. There was no escaping him anyway—might as well let him be.

By morning, sunlight streamed through the gaps in the curtains, and the bed was empty except for her. Emily bolted upright, her hand reaching for the cold sheets beside her.

"Mommy's awake!" Tommy ran in, waving a little wooden horse. "Daddy said not to wake you."

He left? Without even saying goodbye?

A hollow feeling settled in her chest, making even the simple act of putting on her shoes feel sluggish.

"Daddy promised to buy us marbles!" David chirped, holding out a warm boiled egg. "Mommy, eat!"

The table was set with steaming porridge and golden fried eggs, their edges crisp. Emily chewed mechanically, the food tasteless in her mouth.

Meanwhile, on the oxcart heading toward town—

"Michael, that smell..." Daniel sniffed the air, his eyes darting toward Michael's bundle.

"Emily made it last night," Michael said, unable to suppress a smile. "She even added tea leaves."

"Your wife treats you so well now." Daniel remembered the Emily who used to be nothing but trouble—she was like a completely different person.

Michael protectively pulled the bundle closer. "Who else would she treat well if not me?"

The oxcart creaked along the dirt path, the four figures gradually disappearing into the morning mist. They needed to catch the earliest bus passing through town, then transfer to the train station in the city.

Emily spent the day distracted. She scattered chicken feed everywhere while feeding the hens and nearly dropped a clothes hanger into the well while hanging laundry. Only when the sun dipped below the horizon did she realize how eerily quiet the house was.

"Mommy, Uncle Robert sent sweet potatoes!" David rushed in with an oil-paper package. "I gave them brown sugar like you said."

That night, lying on the suddenly too-spacious bed, Emily tossed and turned. The boys sprawled out in deep sleep, but she stared blankly at the ceiling.

A terrifying thought struck her—she might actually have feelings for Michael.

"This can't be!" She yanked the blanket over her head. In the original story, the male lead belonged to the female lead. How could a side character like her—

No, it had to be an illusion from living together day and night. Once she left for college next year, everything would be fine. She tried to convince herself, but the ache in her chest refused to fade.

Meanwhile, on the train, Michael was just as restless. The hard seat dug into his back, but the emptiness in his arms was worse. He pulled out a still-warm spiced egg from his pocket and smiled faintly in the dark.

In the days that followed, Emily busied herself with foraging to fill the void. Wild berries from the hills, exotic fruits from the deep woods—until Mary arrived with cypress branches, snapping her out of her daze.

"Use beanstalks first, then the cypress when it's late," Mary instructed briskly, setting up the smoking rack. "Stray cats love the smell of meat—make sure the kitchen windows are shut tight."

As smoke curled through the air, Emily gazed absently at the path beyond the courtyard. Where is he now?