The information I received in the morning was too chaotic and confusing, and I didn't have much of an appetite. I hurriedly ate a few bites of steak before putting down my knife and fork.
The food in front of Icarus hadn't been touched either.
He sat back in his chair, arms crossed, his gaze as sharp as a knife, staring coldly at me.
I casually started talking to him:
"Do you know James? But it seems like he doesn't recognize you."
Icarus laughed mockingly:
"How could I dare to meet him? Back then, you threatened me, saying if I showed up in front of him, you'd jump off the building with the child..."
My hand froze mid-air as I was drinking water.
Once again, I couldn't help but admire my own audacity.
I coughed, then asked him:
"So, what exactly did you do that was so heartless, making me hate you this much?"
Icarus's expression, which had been questioning, froze.
He lowered his head, staring at the plate, his tone somewhat vague:
"I don't know."
"Huh?"
"I really don't know."
He said: "When you had the baby, the company was busy with the IPO. By the time I got home, you were already asleep. I could only kiss your cheek and hold you while you slept."
"I hired many nannies, asked many people to take care of you and the baby. When you were feeling down, I just wanted to wait until I finished with my work and then be there for you..."
"I thought we were getting along so well, but then one day, you cried and said you wanted a divorce."
"You said you'd had enough of me, that you hated me, even said you resented me..."
He pressed his hand to his chest, his expression filled with sorrow:
"Lavinia, do you know? The moment you said you wanted a divorce, I truly felt like I was dying."
He pointed to his heart:
"Here, it felt like someone dug it out, it hurt so much."
I softly asked:
"So, you forced me?"
Icarus turned his eyes away, his voice hoarse:
"The first time you mentioned it, I didn't agree. I asked if you were too tired, whether you wanted to go on a trip to relax."
"Later, when you mentioned it a second and third time, kept asking, but wouldn't tell me why, I got a bit angry, wanted to get closer to you... I'm sorry."
The sharp, domineering energy around him was gone, replaced by grievance and sadness.
His head hung low, like a depressed brown bear.
He truly didn't understand why a warm home, a good life, suddenly turned into a complete mess, chaotic and terrifying.
The life I shared with Icarus after marriage had different versions, depending on who you asked.
My parents were now using Icarus's money to travel. When I asked them, they said Icarus was the best husband ever.
He made a lot of money, bought them a house, and every year, he brought me and the baby to reunite with them during the Christmas, treating them like his own parents.
In my best friend's eyes, Icarus was a jerk who treated me poorly, messing around with other women. No matter how rich he was, he's not worth keeping.
In James's eyes, Icarus was a symbol I could take or leave, and he didn't feel any moral pressure in getting involved in this marriage.
So what about the original me?
How did I view this marriage, which had started from school to wedding, and now seemed on the brink of collapsing?
I didn't know.
Icarus didn't seem to know either.
He was so lost, trying to hold onto me, stubbornly refusing to divorce me for three whole years.
He was still smiling bitterly:
"At first, you said you wanted a divorce. You said you'd leave everything behind, you just didn't want to see me."
"Back then, I felt like the sky was falling. You, someone who valued money so much, wouldn't even take the money just to leave me."
I guess my heart had been completely dead, so I was too dramatic and couldn't figure things out at that moment.
I picked up my tea and took a sip, guessing:
"So now? I suppose I'm not that foolish anymore with the divorce agreement, right?"
Icarus nodded, then seemed to remember something, his expression turning serious:
"No matter what conditions you offer, I will never agree to a divorce. Get this thought out of your head."
At this moment, I had no intention of divorcing:
"I want to ask you one thing."
I put down my teacup and asked him seriously:
"Did you cheat on me?"
