He Gave Her Strawberries, Gave Me Hives (Ford and Sylvia) novel Chapter 129

My phone was down to its last bar. I stood under a tree, immediately trying to hail a ride.

But the screen went black the moment before the ride was confirmed.

Strands of hair clung heavily to my skin. I closed my eyes, unable to tell if my face was wet from rain or tears.

The road was treacherous in the downpour. With limited visibility, I fell several times, my legs earning a number of deep, stinging cuts.

Numbly, I dragged myself home, stripped off my mud–caked clothes, and got in the shower.

A long, auburn hair in the sink caught my eye. My heart seized.

Caspian and I both have black hair.

The one with auburn hair was Dahlia.

Hot water poured over me, but it couldn’t wash away the chill and bitterness in my heart.

After changing into pajamas, I took a deep breath and opened Dahlia’s Instagram.

The latest post showed a Chanel gift box and a car key. In the corner of the photo, a sliver of her sexy lingerie was

visible.

[Tonight, I get to be someone’s spoiled little girl!]

Friends from the industry flooded the comments.

“Dahlia, you look so happy! I’m so jealous!”

“Is he in the business or a civilian? Wishing you two the best!”

Dahlia replied playfully, “Thanks for the well wishes, it’s a secret.”

I gripped my phone, my chest feeling as if it were being squeezed by a giant hand, making it hard to breathe.

Memories of my past with Caspian flooded my mind.

When we first got together, I mentioned wanting a warm cinnamon roll, and he biked three miles in the dead of

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He Gave Her Strawberries, Gave Me Hives. I Gave Them Both A One Way Ticket To BANKRUPTCY.

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winter to get one.

When he brought it to my dorm, he was freezing, but the cinnamon roll he’d kept tucked inside his jacket was still

warm.

I have low blood sugar, and after every fitness test, he would massage my legs and take me for my favorite lavender honey cake.

But he was clearly allergic to lavender. To keep me from finding out, he’d always secretly take allergy pills after we

ate.

I wanted to see the ocean, so he turned down a role in London and secretly planned a trip for two to Maldives, just to surprise me…

When did our relationship get to this point?

I don’t know when the rain stopped. I sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the clock tick.

The mournful moonlight stretched my lonely shadow across the floor.

I waited until the first light of dawn, but Caspian never came home.

It was the first time he’d ever stayed out all night.

I got up and made oatmeal. Just as I set it on the table, Caspian strode into the house.

He looked tired, his shirt carelessly buttoned, with a noticeable lipstick stain on his collar.

Noticing my gaze, he looked uncomfortable and adjusted his collar, placing a cake box on the table and saying softly.

“Scarlett, we didn’t get that BBQ last night, so I got this to make up for it.”

“Taping for the new show has been moved up. We’ll head over as soon as you’re done eating.”

He leaned down, and the strong scent of gardenias hit me, shattering the last shred of warmth I felt.

It was the perfume Dahlia always wore.

My hand, holding the spoon, froze. My fingertips turned pale.

I lowered my eyes. The plain oatmeal reflected Caspian’s tender, determined gaze on our wedding day. “Scarlett, I will always be by your side. I will only love you.”

His “always” had only lasted five years.

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After breakfast, Caspian drove me to the studio.

When we arrived, I found out Dahlia had been added as a last–minute regular cast member.

Dahlia smiled and waved, her voice syrupy sweet. “Scarlett, it’s a pleasure to be working with you.”

Beneath her wide sleeve, a matching bracelet–the same one Caspian wore–was blindingly conspicuous.

Dahlia and I were put on the same team. During the name–tag ripping game, she deliberately chose Caspian as her opponent. After a few steps, her foot “slipped“, and she fell backwards.

“Careful!” Caspian’s brow furrowed as he lunged forward to catch her. They were intimately close, their breath mingling in the cold air.

Dahlia’s name tag was right there, but he hesitated, teasing her back and forth like they were openly flirting.

“Caspian, you’re terrible!”

I stood off to the side, a complete outsider, with a painful tightness in my chest.

In the end, as expected, we lost.

The host looked at us. “Next, we choose one guest to accept the penalty.”

A full glass of mango juice was brought out.

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