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Bethan finished packing her things and came out to find Hugh’s study door shut tight.
She made herself something simple to eat, then went to her room to rest. Even though everything seemed normal on the surface, her nerves were wound tight. She couldn’t wait for Monday morning to come.
Late that night, Hugh stood alone in his study by the floor-to-ceiling windows, smoking. Behind him, several empty bottles were scattered across the coffee table. The constant ticking of the wall clock was driving him crazy, leaving him restless and on edge.
Sunday morning. Bethan had nothing else to do, so she headed to the kitchen to make breakfast.
Hugh walked into the kitchen and moved beside her. “Let me help,” he said.
The moment she saw him reaching for the pan to fry eggs, she shut off the burner.
Hugh grabbed her wrist, looking into her eyes. “I just
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either?”
Bethan took the egg from his hand.
“Hugh, I’ll be honest,” she said, her voice tired. “I can’t stand anything you’ve touched. Food you’ve made? Even worse. Because it makes me think of that blueberry cake you made for Megan with your own hands.”
Hugh’s expression crumbled into something ugly and unrecognizable.
He stared at her, frozen. “Bethan… I know I messed up. Just tell me what do I have to do for you to forgive me?”
Bethan’s eyes were cold. “If you were in my position, could you forgive yourself?”
They stared at each other in silence before Hugh left the
kitchen.
More than ten minutes later, Bethan sat quietly in the dining room, staring at the breakfast she’d just made. Her appetite was completely gone.
Pn the study, Hugh collapsed on the sofa, totally drained.7
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Bethan thought the weekend would just pass like that.
That evening, Hugh came out of his room fully dressed, saying he’d made dinner reservations.
Bethan thought about it, then changed clothes and went out with Hugh.
At eight that evening, they sat across from each other at an upscale restaurant in New York. Hugh ordered all of Bethan’s favorites-including the matcha truffles she loved.
When the server brought their meals, Hugh pushed the plate with the pre-cut steak toward Bethan.
She didn’t touch her silverware.
“You’ve always loved this place,” Hugh said, breaking the silence. “They just hired a new chef yesterday. Try it-see if it’s any good.”
Bethan reluctantly picked up her knife and fork, took one small bite, then set them down again.
Bligh’s eyes lifted to hers. “What’s wrong?”
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“Hugh,” she said quietly, “haven’t you ever noticed? Every single time we come here, I barely eat. And the second we get home, I’m in the fridge looking for real food.”
Hugh’s face went still. He stared at her for a long moment, then slowly lowered his utensils.
Bethan held his gaze. “I only pretended to like this place because you did. I never actually wanted to be here.”
Hugh swallowed hard. “And now?”
“Now you’re not worth it,” Bethan said. “So I don’t like it. Every bite I take just feels like I’m forcing myself.”
Hugh’s hands on the table unconsciously clenched into
fists.
He looked down, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.
Looking back up at Bethan, he said, “If you don’t want to eat, don’t force yourself. Try your favorite matcha truffles.”
A faint smile curved Bethan’s lips.
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“Haven’t you noticed?” she said to Hugh. “Ever since you said ‘leave it to the professionals,’ I haven’t touched a single matcha truffle.”
Hugh closed his eyes in defeat.
He remembered that time when Bethan asked if he could make her matcha truffles by hand. He’d told her to leave it to the professionals. He said even the restaurant apprentices were better than him, and he told her to just buy some herself.
By then, Bethan had already seen his Instagram post.
She was just testing him—if he could make Megan a blueberry cake with his own hands, could he make her
matcha truffles?
And his response shot her down completely.
Without leaving any room for hope.
They had a fight over this.
He bought her matcha truffles after that, but she never
oklanother bite.
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Looking back at his decision then, he was filled with
regret.
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Meeting Bethan’s cold gaze again, Hugh started falling
apart.
His eyes went red as he stood up awkwardly.
“Since you’re not eating, let’s go,” he said to Bethan.
The two of them left the restaurant, neither looking particularly happy.
They were meant to spend the weekend getting along.
Instead, they spent it in one awkward silence after
another.
Standing on the sidewalk, Hugh stared at Bethan in a daze.
In this moment, he finally got it.
He and Bethan could no longer act like a normal married
couple. 6/11
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IT
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have to go to the courthouse tomorrow morning.”
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Seeing Bethan turn to leave, Hugh lost it and pulled her into his arms.
The streetlights stretched long shadows across the pavement as Hugh held Bethan tight, not wanting to let her go.
He buried his head in her shoulder, closing his eyes to hide the panic underneath.
“Walk with me a little longer,” he said.
Unable to break free from Hugh’s arms, Bethan could only agree.
Late at night, in the downtown night market district, Bethan let Hugh hold her hand as they walked.
Hugh walked really slowly, but Bethan’s steps were quick.
Thinking back to before, Hugh’s long legs meant he walked fast, and she often had to jog to keep up, always
asking him to slow down.
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But she just wanted to get to the end as fast as possible.
They’d walked this street countless times since they were kids.
She knew a lot of the vendors here.
Hugh stopped at a small stall and looked down at her. “Want some hair ties?”
Bethan shook her head.
A few steps later, he tried again. “Milkshake?”
She shook her head.
They walked further. He stopped once more.
“It’s still early. We could sit and do one of those crafts before heading back?”
Again, she shook her head.
And so they continued, walking and stopping.
6matter what Hugh asked, Bethan only shook her 18:07
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