He Counted Seconds With Me and Seasons With Her Chapter 02

He Counted Seconds With Me and Seasons With Her Chapter 02

Just as I finished booking my flight home, Nathan’s text arrived: [Clara, a last-minute meeting came up at the office tonight. Eat dinner on your own.]

At the same time, Scarlett updated her Instagram.

A table full of dazzling dishes.

The caption read: Someone who loves you never tires of cooking for you, no matter how long it takes.

I stared at the photo. In it, she had forgotten to crop out Nathan’s reflection—half of his body in an apron.

I silently liked the post.

Then, I turned off my phone and tossed it onto the bed.

Outside the window, the sunset was fading. It was that dreamy blue hour.

I suddenly remembered meeting Nathan three years ago, under a sky just as beautiful.

The sky was beautiful, but the man was even more so. Nathan, with his clear, sharp features, barged straight into my heart.

After I chased him relentlessly, he finally relented.

He said he could marry me.

But he was cold by nature, with an extreme obsession with time. After marriage, he wouldn’t be able to give me the companionship I wanted.

Back then, I was so confident.

I felt that with my bright personality, I would surely melt this iceberg before me.

But reality dealt me a heavy blow.

Three years. Enough time for the sun to rise and set one thousand and ninety-five times.

But not enough time to melt the iceberg that was Nathan.

Later, I was exhausted. I comforted myself.

He was busy. It was just his nature. He treated everyone this way.

Until today. That photo album, hidden by Nathan in his study, tore all my self-deception to shreds.

I heard there is a heavenly lake in the Rockies. If you tie a red ribbon there and make a wish, you can grow old together.

So Nathan wasn’t cold by nature. It was just that his romance never belonged to me.

My memories faded. My phone suddenly rang.

I hastily wiped a tear away, not wanting anyone to sense my fragility.

“Hello?”

“It’s me, Scarlett.”

“Come to the restaurant tomorrow to celebrate my first successful baking attempt!”

Her voice was bright and enthusiastic, like a fiery red blossom.

Just before hanging up, she added, “Nathan is coming too!”

Even though I had mentally prepared myself a thousand times, my hand, clutching the phone, still trembled.

All these years, for every single wedding anniversary, even our son’s first-month celebration, Nathan had declined, citing work.

But for Scarlett, even a trivial, insignificant matter, Nathan was willing to accompany her.

Love is tolerance. Love is companionship.

It’s doing ten thousand childish things with her, never finding it a waste of time or too much trouble.

After a long pause, I slowly spoke. “Okay, see you tomorrow. I won’t leave until I see you.”

The moment I hung up the phone, I fought through the pain of my nails cutting bloody marks into my palms.

I contacted a lawyer and drafted a divorce agreement.

A happy occasion calls for a fine gift.

This divorce agreement—

let it be the final gift I give to Nathan and Scarlett tomorrow.