My Reborn Ex Dumped Me Again. Joke’s on Him, I Married Better Chapter 07

My Reborn Ex Dumped Me Again. Joke’s on Him, I Married Better Chapter 07

Mrs. Farrow led me through two garden courtyards and stopped in front of a room at the far end.

She pushed the door open. I stood at the threshold and froze.

The room was enormous – larger than the entire ground floor of the Vance house combined.

“Mr. Harrington had it prepared. I didn’t know what style you’d prefer, so we went with the designer’s last proposal. If anything doesn’t suit you, we’ll change it.”

I set down my small suitcase and stared at this room, ten times the size of the storage closet I’d

lived in for three years. A wave of disorientation washed over me.

Mrs. Farrow walked to the wardrobe and pulled open the doors. “Clothes are all ready. Mr.

Harrington had them ordered to your measurements. See if they fit. If not, I’ll have them

exchanged.”

The wardrobe was filled – casual wear to formal gowns, all neatly arranged, tags still attached.

I recognized some of the labels. They were the ones Celeste always bought. A single piece cost

half a year of my factory wages.

Mrs. Farrow crouched down and pulled open the lower drawers. “Intimates too. I double–checked

the sizes. They should be right. Makeup is on the vanity, skincare in the bathroom. If you have

brands you prefer, tell me and I’ll order them.”

I stood in the middle of the room, watching her bustle around, and suddenly spoke. “He prepared

all this in advance?”

Mrs. Farrow straightened and smiled. “Mr. Harrington started getting everything ready two months ago.”

Two months ago.

Back then, the Vances hadn’t even raised the subject of the healing match. He had been preparing for two months.

Mrs. Farrow seemed to read my confusion. She took my hand and sat me down on the edge of the bed with a sigh.

“Mr. Harrington isn’t one for many words, but since he’s brought you here, he won’t let you suffer. Settle in. If you need anything, come to me.”

I looked down at my hands. After a long moment, I gave a small nod.

Dinner arrived, carried in by Mrs. Farrow herself. Four dishes, a soup, and an extra bowl of

nourishing soup

“Mr. Harrington said he has business tonight. He told you to eat first, not to wait.”

I murmured an acknowledgment and picked up my bowl, eating slowly.

Halfway through, Mrs. Farrow returned with a plate of fruit and set it on the table.

Strawberries, cherries, blueberries arranged beautifully.

–

The moment she set the plate down, she let out a gasp. “Oh, what is wrong with my memory – you’re allergic to strawberries! Mr. Harrington specifically told me, and I forgot!”

She scooped up the fruit plate and headed for the door, then turned back. She picked every strawberry off the platter, set it down again. “Strawberries are gone. These are safe.”

I watched her crouch by the trash bin, picking out strawberries one by one, and suddenly thought of my mother.

When my mother brought out strawberries and I said I was allergic, she had let out her own little gasp – and then turned straight to Celeste and said, “Well, you have more then.”

Mrs. Farrow finished, wrapped the strawberries in a napkin, dropped them in the bin, and dusted off her hands. “There. Take your time eating. I’ll leave you now.”

She reached the door, glanced back at me, hesitated as if she wanted to say something, and then quietly pulled the door shut.

I sat at the table, staring at the fruit plate with every strawberry removed, and felt a sudden heat behind my eyes.

Something no one had bothered to remember my entire past life, right up to the day I died. Someone had remembered it for me on my very first day here.