I woke up hungry in the middle of the night.
Heading to the living room for food, I discovered Sean had returned. He bought Zoey a large house.
They lived there together, where Zoey cooked for him, cheered him up, and waited for his return. Sean seemed content with her, having not come home for a long time.
He was lounging against the floor-to-ceiling window, cigarette in mouth, staring straight at me.
I walked past him with downcast eyes, but he suddenly grabbed me. His frown deepening, he asked softly, "Why have you lost so much weight?" His tone was gentle, as if he still deeply loved me.
Startled, I shook off his hand and snapped, "Sean, what the hell do you want?"
He stared at his empty palm, his expression gradually turning cold.
Reaching the dining table, I saw a cake covered in candles and realized the phone call hadn't been a dream. I said wanting a cake, and Sean had brought one home.
Was this his attempt at making peace? But I was nearing death; I no longer needed a cake, nor did I need Sean.
I grabbed the cake and threw it in the trash. Sean, grinding his teeth, pinned me against the wall and hissed fiercely, "Annie, are you making a fool out of me?"
I laughed and admitted, "Sean, I just want to see your reaction, what's wrong with that?"
"I say I want cake, and you rush to buy it. Why are you so cheap?"
I intentionally provoked him, watching Sean's face turn ice-cold. He stubbed out his cigarette harshly, dragged me to the bedroom, and threw me onto the bed. Enraged, he began roughly tearing at my nightgown.
Frightened, I clenched my fists and hit him, yelling, "Sean, you bastard! Don't touch me! I find you repulsive!"
He restrained my legs, preventing me from struggling, and bit down hard on my neck, making me cry out in pain. He growled into my ear.
"Annie, would it kill you to yield to me?"
"Do you know how many years I've waited for you to comfort me?"
"Do you realize how happy I was when you said you wanted cake?"
"And then you treat me like a fool?"
He looked up, his eyes red with fury. I held back tears and met his glare.
In the dimly lit room, neither of us spoke, neither willing to concede. Sean leaned in closer, almost kissing me, but his phone rang. It was Zoey. He hesitated but answered.
I heard Zoey crying, "Mr. Smith, are you really leaving me for Annie? You obviously like me."
"I'm at a bar. I've drunk a lot, and a man is harassing me… I'm scared, can you come pick me up?"
Sean remained silent; he just stared at me, smiled coldly, and softly commanded, "Annie, beg me."
"Beg me to stay, and I won't leave." He seemed to have forgotten.
Long ago, I too had set aside my dignity to plead with him.
"Sean, can't we just talk calmly?"
"Can't we stop fighting?"
"Can't we stay together nicely?"
"Can't you treat me a little better?"
"Annie, you don't deserve it."
Sean looked at me with coldness in his eyes that day, his smile feeling like a sharp knife slicing through the air.Those words had stung me deeply.
Today, I finally had the chance to return them. I grabbed his collar and said each word deliberately.
"Sean, you don't deserve it." Sean paused, then laughed bitterly.
He put the phone to his ear and told Zoey, "Wait, I'll pick you up." Without another look at me, he got up, slammed the door, and left.
