Chapter 3 Is it that hard to put her in the address book?


    There were still twenty days before the sentencing of Isabe’s father. If she failed toe up with the


    money by then, her father would spend the rest of his life in prison.


    An investor?


    Isabe pondered Mr. Smith’s words. She took out her phone and scrolled through her contacts until


    she found the number that she knew by heart.


    At first, she had saved Christian’s number with the name “Husband”. She had even pinned his contact


    at the very top so that his number would be the very first one that she saw when she opened the


    contacts list on her phone.


    However, in the past three years, Christian had rarely called or texted her. After a while, she changed


    his contact name into “Christian”. Unless it was urgent, she did not want to bother him.


    Isabe threw the cigarette butt into the toilet and exited the cubicle. As she rinsed her mouth, she


    dialed his number.


    Her voice was a little hoarse from the cigarette. She had to do something about it, or else Christian


    Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    would be able to tell over the phone and get upset.


    “Hello, who is this?”


    The line connected almost immediately, but what chilled Isabe to the core was that a woman


    answered the phone. She spoke with a natural ease, as though she had answered phone calls for


    Christian many times.


    As Isabe didn’t say anything, the woman asked again, "Hello?"


    After a moment, Isabe finally came back to her senses. She then asked in a strained voice, "I want to


    speak with Christian. Is he there?"


    "Chris is in a meeting." The woman said his nickname casually, as if she was his wife. “May I know


    whom am I speaking to? Chris didn’t save your number…"


    Isabe ended the call instantly before the woman could finish speaking. Her hand was trembling so


    badly that her phone dropped to the floor with a dull thud. She hurriedly picked it up.


    On the cracked screen of her phone, Isabe saw her own face. At some point, it had been streaked


    with tears. She looked utterly broken.


    She and Christian had been married for three years. By most people’s standards, they were an old


    couple already, but he didn’t save her number.


    Was it that hard to add her to his contacts list?


    And who was the woman who had answered the phone…?


    Thinking about that phone call from three minutes ago, she felt her body go cold.


    Christian had always treated her with indifference. Isabe had suspected before that he might be


    having an affair, but if that were the case, he would have to divorce her and give up all his assets


    ording to the contract.


    Isabe had always trusted him, but after hearing the woman say his name so intimately over the


    phone today, she changed her mind.


    The chasm in her heart grew bigger and bigger.


    Isabe didn''t care whether or not Christian woulde home today.


    She got off work at exactly 5:30pm. On her way home, she stopped by a supermarket and picked up


    some fresh groceries.


    She had always been good at cooking, which she had learned from her mother. After marrying


    Christian, she had whipped up all kinds of dishes for him, but he would onlye home once a week


    as per the contract. Most of the time, despite how good the food was, she ate alone.


    As time went on, Isabe could no longer be bothered to cook unless she was in a good mood. If


    Christian came home, then they would take turns cooking. Otherwise, she would just order takeout.


    Loud music red from the living room as Isabe prepared dinner in the kitchen. Naturally, she


    couldn’t hear the sound of the door opening.


    "Ah!"


    While cleaning a fish, Isabe identally cut her hand. She let out a surprised scream and pulled


    back her bloody finger.


    Before she could react, someone approached her from behind. Arge hand grabbed her finger and


    rinsed it under the running water. The warmth from his palm left Isabe stupefied.


    It seemed that every part of a man’s body was hot except for his lips.


    “You should’ve asked someone at the supermarket to do it for you,” Christian said. He cleaned her


    finger with a tissue and bandaged her wound. His hands were very gentle, but his expression was


    apathetic.


    “I was in a rush, so I forgot,” Isabe muttered quietly.