Chapter 5: Soup, Lies, and Goodbyes

That night, when I got home, Luke was making soup in the kitchen. Seeing me, he called out excitedly,

He waved a ladle in the air. "Babe, the supermarket had pork ribs thirty percent off today, so I bought some to make soup for you."

He grinned, sweat glistening on his forehead. "Take a rest, it’ll be ready soon."

The scent of simmering pork ribs mixed with the sharp tang of dish soap and the hum of the old fridge.

I couldn’t help but curl my lips in mockery.

I muttered under my breath, barely audible, How can someone be so contradictory?

Someone spending $400,000 on a wedding actually buys discounted ribs?

Luke carefully brought out the soup. "Drink it while it’s hot."

He placed the bowl in front of me with a flourish. I listlessly took a sip. "It’s salty, and it smells a bit off."

Luke was stunned.

His smile faltered. In the past, whenever he cooked, I’d always feel sorry for him having to cook after a long day at work, and I’d finish everything cleanly.

I’d never once said it didn’t taste good.

This was the first time.

Luke put away the bowl, still good-natured.

He shrugged, covering up any disappointment. "Then don’t drink it. What do you want to eat? I’ll order takeout."

"I’m not hungry. You eat by yourself."

He asked gently, "Not feeling well today?"

His voice was soft, careful. I lowered my eyes. "Just a bit tired."

Luke immediately started massaging my shoulders.

He rolled up his sleeves. "Why does your company make you work overtime on weekends? Don’t go next time."

He didn’t know I was working part-time as a wedding planner.

As he massaged, his hands started to wander lower.

I stiffened and stopped him, then handed him a medical certificate.

My fingers trembled as I passed him the paper, praying he wouldn’t notice the smudged ink or the way I couldn’t quite meet his eyes. I’d printed it at a 24-hour copy shop, shaky and guilty. "The doctor said I have a ruptured cyst, so I can’t have sex for a month."

Of course, it was a fake certificate.

I just didn’t want to have breakup sex with him.

I even vaguely hoped he would confess early and end this charade.

But Luke just frowned.

He squeezed my hand. "Did I really hurt you?"

He looked genuinely troubled. "I’m sorry..."

"Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you."

Me: "..."

I waited for the mask to slip, for him to show his true face. But all I saw was the same practiced smile.