A Wedding Night Gone Terribly Wrong novel Chapter 26

Lost in the crowd of patients, Winifred moved forward in a daze, operating on pure autopilot.

She returned to the third floor, splashed cold water on her face, and forcefully compartmentalized her emotions before returning to her holistic treatments.

She worked non-stop until seven in the evening.

Carrying the cake, Winifred finally headed downstairs. As soon as the first floor came into view, her eyes darted straight to Quentin's office.

They had an agreement. He was supposed to come home with her to celebrate the kids' birthday tonight. He had the car, so surely he was waiting for her.

But as she got closer, she saw that his office door was tightly shut.

The faint hope in her eyes died. Quentin had left without even saying goodbye.

Winifred walked over to the pharmacy window and tapped on the glass. "Do you know what time Dr. Adams left?"

The young, freshly graduated pharmacist smiled brightly. "Around six!"

Winifred managed a polite smile. "Thank you."

The pharmacist noticed the cake box. "Dr. Shultz, is it your birthday today?"

"Yes, it is."

"Happy birthday!"

"Thank you," Winifred said softly, dragging her exhausted legs toward the exit.

Behind her, the pharmacist called out cheerfully, "I hope the kindest, most beautiful doctor in the world has an amazing year filled with happiness and health!"

Winifred smiled. The world wasn't entirely cold; there was still warmth to be found. Men might be worthless, but life itself was still worth living. As long as you didn't let the bitterness consume you, your heart had room for everything else.

Auburn Avenue was located in the southern part of the city, an older residential area that was notorious for rush-hour traffic. Her ride-hailing app showed a twenty-minute wait just for a car to arrive.

She couldn't wait that long. She rented a shared e-bike instead.

The cake was too large to fit in the front basket, so she had to hang it from the handlebars. As she pedaled, the box swung wildly side to side.

Suddenly, an e-bike delivery driver zoomed past her, his handlebar clipping the cake box and sending it flying into the air.

Winifred lunged, managing to catch the box mid-air. Terrified of dropping it again, she held it securely against her body with one hand, steering the bike entirely with the other.

She was determined to protect this cake with her life. It was the only joy she could guarantee her children tonight.

The streets were packed. A scrap collector's tricycle bumped her elbow, a speeding scooter scraped the back of her hand, and a teenager playing a game on his phone swerved and slammed into her left arm...

After surviving a gauntlet of near-misses, she finally made it home.

The cake was perfectly intact.

Her hand, however, was bleeding and scraped raw.

"Mommy, Mommy, let me blow on it!" little Annelise cried, standing on her tiptoes, trying to reach Winifred's hand.

Winifred lowered her arm. Annelise gently took her hand, pressed her soft little lips near the scrape, and blew on it tenderly.

"Okay."

"You're gonna wish for Mommy's hand to be all better by tomorrow morning, right?"

"I will."

Seth finished cleaning the wound, looked up, and met Winifred's eyes with absolute seriousness. "You can't get this wet for a week. Until then, I'll be the one washing your face and feet for you."

"You're too little, sweetheart. Mommy doesn't want to bother you—"

"Even if I'm little, I'm the man of the house."

Winifred's hand paused in mid-air, just short of stroking his hair.

"Sit here and don't move. I'll get the birthday dinner ready," Seth ordered. He grabbed the heavy first-aid kit, his small body leaning to the side under its weight as he trudged away.

Watching his tiny silhouette, Winifred's eyes burned with tears.

"Drink this now, look at you," Celeste demanded, marching out of the kitchen with a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup. "You look completely drained."

Winifred was sitting by the entrance to the living room, just steps away from where Quentin's parents slept. Eating early, especially alone, was frowned upon when living with elders; it easily sparked household drama.

Just then, a voice called out for help from the second-floor study.

"Aunt Winifred, come here, quick!"