The 99th Chance I Gave You Chapter 03

The 99th Chance I Gave You Chapter 03

I laughed at myself, closed the door, and went back to the bedroom.

Seeing me return so quickly, Nathaniel froze.

“That fast? Are they clean? That’s Sylvia’s favorite dress. I promised her you’d take care of it.”

I hummed and turned to wash up.

In my mind, I was wondering which dry cleaner offered pickup service.

Just then, a familiar ringtone sounded outside.

Nathaniel glanced at me carefully, then took his phone and hid on the balcony.

I quietly followed him and happened to hear Sylvia acting sweet on the phone.

“Mr. Fenton, the cake you bought me was amazing. I’ve never had cake that good before.”

“It’s just that the line was so long. I felt bad for you.”

Nathaniel glanced toward the bedroom, his voice so gentle it barely sounded real.

“It’s fine. As long as you want it, I’ll buy it for you anytime.”

“Anything for you.”

Sylvia laughed, her voice soft and sweet.

“What about my dress? Wouldn’t it be bad to have Miss Hart wash it for me?”

“I don’t want to make things hard for you.”

Nathaniel let out a low laugh.

“What’s hard about it? She’s used to it.”

“But you? Your hands are so pretty. If I really let you do that kind of work, I’d feel bad.”

I froze and instinctively looked down at my own hands.

Because of years of housework, the skin had indeed grown much rougher.

No wonder he looked down on me.

I didn’t want to listen anymore and fled awkwardly into the bathroom.

10 minutes later, Nathaniel knocked on the door.

“Eleanor, something urgent came up at the company. I need to go out. Go to bed early.”

I hummed.

Just as he was about to leave, I suddenly spoke.

“Nathaniel Fenton, if you don’t come back tonight, can I use 1 forgiveness voucher?”

I looked at him, my eyes not fully dry yet.

Nathaniel smiled at me, his tone casual.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be back before 12. You won’t need that forgiveness voucher.”

Looking at the face that had barely changed from 5 years ago, I pressed down the ache in my chest and smiled faintly.

“Okay. I’ll wait for you.”

There were 3 hours until 12.

I paid extra for a courier and asked him to buy me a piece of cake.

Nathaniel’s assistant, Oliver Grant, posted an Instagram Story.

He said he was still working late, and he was the only person left on the whole floor.

Soon, Nathaniel sent me a text.

“Just got to the office. I’ll be home soon.”

There were 2 hours until 12.

While clearing my photo album, I found a picture of Nathaniel proposing to me.

On impulse, I posted an Instagram Story.

“Somehow, it’s already been 5 years.”

Nathaniel replied quickly.

“More than 5 years.”

He also sent me a nighttime photo.

“The night view is beautiful tonight. It made me think of you.”

I didn’t reply.

Because the building in the photo wasn’t near the company.

It was in Mayfair.

That was where the most famous romantic restaurant in all of London was.

Sylvia couldn’t help herself either. She soon posted an Instagram Story visible only to me.

“You say she’s the one, but I’m the one you can’t really let go of.”

In the lower left corner of the photo, Nathaniel’s left hand was clearly missing his wedding ring.

There was 1 hour until 12.

I curled up on the sofa, looping our old wedding video while eating huge bites of cake delivered by the courier.

For some reason, the more I ate, the saltier the cake tasted.

Maybe it was my tears.

I thought I probably wouldn’t like it anymore after this.

There were 30 minutes until 12.

Nathaniel stopped replying to me.

I didn’t bother him again. I turned and began packing.

There was 1 minute until 12.

I took the last forgiveness voucher out of the glass jar, ready to tear it up.

Just then, someone suddenly knocked on the door.

I paused, then hurried to open it.

“Hello. This is the gift Mr. Nathaniel ordered for you. Please sign here.”

The courier held a jewelry box with a polite, thoughtful smile.

At the same time, Nathaniel’s message popped up.

“Sorry, I have to stay at the office tonight. Use that forgiveness voucher if you want. I’ll bring home your favorite cake when I come back.”

I was about to reply when I accidentally bumped into the bookcase.

The wedding portrait that had stood there for 5 years fell and smashed onto the floor.

Glass shattered everywhere.

The courier jumped in shock and quickly asked, “Miss, do you need me to help clean this up?”

I shook my head and replied on my phone.

“No need to bring cake, Nathaniel Fenton. The forgiveness vouchers are all gone.”

“Let’s get divorced.”

The next second, hundreds of messages flooded my phone.