Chapter 7: The Quarrel The villa was very quiet. Except for the necessary business communication...

The villa was quiet. Aside from necessary business conversations, the two of them barely communicated. However, every morning at 7:30, the familiar sound of chopping vegetables would shatter the stillness.

Shen Shutong's biological clock usually wakes her up at 7:15. She'll lie in bed for a while, checking her phone to clear her head, then wash up, change into her neatly ironed business attire, and apply a simple touch of makeup in the mirror...

Then, the voice came.

First, there was the gentle clatter of the refrigerator door opening and closing, followed by the gurgling of running water from the faucet. Soon, the clatter of chopping vegetables began, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, with occasional abrupt pauses of a few seconds. Occasionally, there was the crisp clink of a spatula or the low rumble of a range hood.

These voices forcibly pried open the lock that was sealed deep in Shen Shutong's memory.

It was often like this five years ago. The kitchen was open, and she often sat on the sofa and leisurely admired Fu Jingchuan's back in an apron. Occasionally, when she got impatient, she would hug his waist from behind and act coquettishly with him... Those fragmented, down-to-earth scenes were once the warmest comfort in her tired life.

At that time, he would always time it well, and when she finished washing up and walked out of the bedroom, he would bring the steaming hot breakfast to the table. He would press her down on the chair and say with a lazy smile: "Boss Shen, breakfast is very important. Only when you are full can you have the energy to go to work."

Memories came flooding back with the warmth of the old times, but at this moment Shen Shutong only felt the glare.

She pushed those damned images away, her face grim as she pushed open the door and walked towards the living room.

Sure enough, the dining table was already set with dishes: a bowl of thick porridge and a few delicate side dishes.

Fu Jingchuan was rinsing knives in front of the sink with his back to her. Shen Shutong noticed that his shoulders shrugged slightly, and then he quickly turned on the faucet and bent down. A suppressed retching sound was barely covered by the sound of running water.

She forced herself to look away, walked to the entrance with an expressionless face to change her shoes, and prepared to leave immediately.

"Shutong." Fu Jingchuan had already stood up and walked out, wiping his hands with a towel. "Have some breakfast before you go. Meeting on an empty stomach will hurt your stomach."

Shen Shutong didn't stop: "Mr. Fu, thank you for your concern. But I'm not hungry. There is a coffee shop downstairs in the company. I will solve it myself when I am hungry."

Fu Jingchuan hummed softly and didn't insist any further.

For several days, the scene repeated itself almost identically. The breakfast on the table would occasionally change, but the core was always light and easy to digest. Fu Jingchuan's morning sickness seemed to have become more frequent because of breakfast, apparently because the smell of kitchen fumes made him extremely uncomfortable. But he still appeared in the kitchen on time, stubbornly preparing the breakfast she had never touched.

This stubborn "gentleness" was like a noose that kept tightening, making Shen Shutong breathless. She really couldn't figure out why he was doing such useless things every day. She thought it was five years ago.

What made her even more annoyed was that Fu Jingchuan seemed to want to continue another habit from five years ago - picking her up and dropping her off.

"It's raining this afternoon. Shall I take you to the company?" He asked her while standing at the entrance with the car keys in his hand as she was about to go out.

"No need, the driver is downstairs." Shen Shutong changed his shoes without looking around.

"That cocktail party will end very late tonight. It's not safe..."

"Fu Jingchuan!" Shen Shutong finally couldn't suppress the anger of the past few days, "What are you pretending to be?"

Her sudden outburst startled Fu Jingchuan.

"Why do you make breakfast every day? Is it fun to flatter yourself? I'm so tired of watching you! Mr. Fu, I don't need to remind you again why we got married and why we lived together! You still thought we were in love! You still thought it was five years ago!"

"Sorry, I'm just used to it." Fu Jingchuan seemed to be still in shock after being scolded.

"Get used to it? You've gotten used to it after five years?!" Chen Shutong became even more agitated. "Why are you pretending to be affectionate now?! Why are you pretending to be considerate?! Doing these things every day, are you trying to remind me how stupid I was back then? Or do you think this will soften my heart?"

"I'm not pretending." His voice was trembling. "I wanted to make breakfast for you. I picked you up because I was worried about you. I'm sorry if you said anything offensive. I won't do it again next time. It was my fault back then, and I can make it up to you with everything I have."

"Compensation? I don't need any compensation!" Chen Shutong sneered, "Just stop doing these messy things. I'm tired of your hypocritical behavior!"

She said the last sentence and slammed the door and left.

Fu Jingchuan stood where he was, as if his body was nailed to the spot by the loud noise, only his hands hanging by his side were trembling slightly.

For the next two days, the villa was suffocatingly quiet.

There was no more sound from the kitchen. Fu Jingchuan woke up on time as usual and just sat in the living room, drinking warm water to suppress his morning nausea. His face had visibly worsened, and he felt a dull pain in his lower abdomen.

The phone screen flickered on and off. He handled messages from his assistant and company matters with efficiency and brevity. Only the pinned name hadn't received any new messages. He clicked on the dialog box, typing and deleting, over and over again.

In the end, he only uttered: "Are you coming back today?"

The next night, it rained heavily outside the window.

Fu Jingchuan stood in front of the French window, his phone screen lit up, showing the message the driver had just sent: "Mr. Shen said he would stay in the hotel tonight and would not go back."

A sharp pain came from his lower abdomen, forcing him to bend down and lean against the cold glass for a while to relax.

He slowly walked to the sofa and sat down. "Grow up quickly," he muttered to himself, his head lowered, his hand covering his lower abdomen. "Will I look like my mother?"

A scene from five years ago flashed through my mind: the two of them huddled together on the sofa, her face poking his cheek with a smile, saying that her eyes would only look good if they resembled his. How did he respond? It seemed like he'd pulled her into his arms, chuckled, and said, "Okay."

The sweeter the memories are, the sharper they are at this moment, cutting into one's heart with dull pain.

He closed his eyes and buried his face in the cushions.

It doesn't matter.

He said to himself.

There are children here.