The phone screen dimmed automatically. Luther didn’t pay much attention to it and pulled Callista into his arms. He gently patted her back.
“Shh, don’t cry. It hurts me to see you like this.
“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have brought you here just to upset you. She’s my mother—you don’t have to put up with her for my sake.
“You can yell at me or hit me if it makes you feel better.”
On the way home, Luther spent the entire ride trying to comfort her. Callista simply closed her eyes and pretended to sleep.
Occasionally, the sound of message notifications echoed in the car. Luther was busy replying to them for the second half of the drive.
When they arrived home, Luther stroked her head.
“Honey, there’s an urgent matter at work that I need to handle. Wait for me here, and I’ll come back early tonight, okay?”
Callista quietly got out of the car.
After Luther left, she accepted Wren’s friend request and opened her social media feed. Pinned at the top of her profile were two photos.
The first was of Luther’s back as he planted roses. The second was a sea of blue roses.
The caption read, “Considering someone took the time to plant my favorite blue roses, I’ll forgive you this once. Come and make it up to me.”
Callista’s chest tightened at the sight. So Wren was the one who loved blue. Even the roses he planted for their anniversary weren’t for her.
She hailed a cab and went straight to the estate. As soon as she arrived, she saw Luther’s black Bentley parked nearby.
In the distance, Luther stood with his back to her in front of the sea of roses. He was unaware of her presence.
“If Callista could have children, I wouldn’t have needed you. She’s where I draw my line. How dare you show up in front of her and throw a tantrum?”
Wren’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Then why come to me at all? Just leave me alone!”
“Don’t cry,” Luther said. His tone softened. “As long as you behave, I’ll take care of you for life.”
Wren wiped her tears and smiled before throwing herself into his arms. “I can be even better if that’s what you want.”
“I cleared an entire afternoon for this. Do you really not know what I want?” Luther’s voice was hoarse as he scooped Wren into his arms and carried her toward the estate.
Just then, Wren glanced back and smirked at Callista. She had seen Callista standing there the whole time.
Through the windows, shadows of their entangled figures swayed and flickered. Callista stood frozen on the roadside. Her chest was heaving with every labored breath.
It felt like a barbed hook had torn into her heart, and each pull left behind a fresh, bleeding wound.
“Are you here to take pictures too? Mr. Spencer and Mrs. Spencer still have such a loving relationship after all these years. It’s really enviable,” a woman nearby remarked with a smile as she snapped some photos.
“Mrs. Spencer must have saved the galaxy in her past life. Every woman dreams of having a husband like Mr. Spencer.”
Callista laughed bitterly as tears streamed down her face. “But she doesn’t want him anymore.”
This so-called estate Luther gave her, symbolizing his devotion, was nothing more than a place where he slept with another woman.
The woman then stared at Callista and became somewhat stunned. It wasn’t surprising she’d mistaken Wren for Callista.
After all, Wren bore an uncanny resemblance to Callista at 24, the year she first met Luther.
“I guess men are all the same,” the woman murmured. Her tone turned despondent.
