Page 9

“Come on, you’re not that little crybaby you used to be,” I told you.
Maxwell sniffed and replied, with a defiant tilt of his chin, “Who’s crying? “I’ll just get you some food.”
When Maxwell turned away, he wiped his eyes roughly.
I felt like crying, too, but I blinked hard, fighting back the tears.
Outside the window, the cheerful chatter of birds filled the air, their lively song breaking the silence, and I turned my head to look outside, a trace of longing in my eyes.
Suddenly, the sound of a plastic bag dropping to the floor brought me back to reality.
“Why are you back so quickly…” I began with a smile, but my words faltered when I realised who had arrived.
Beckham was looking anxious and flustered, with a plastic bag at his feet and Claire standing awkwardly next to him.
“Athena, I swear I didn’t mean to bring him here,” Claire exclaimed, fiddling nervously with her fingers. “I just ran into him at the hospital, and I couldn’t help it—I started yelling at him and accidentally let it slip.”
I noticed Claire’s frustration and laughed softly.
“It is fine. Perhaps it is for the best. Some things need to be cleared up.
I asked Claire to wait outside for a moment.
Looking at the concerned Beckham, I said calmly, “Beckham, let’s get a divorce.”
He jerked his head up and said, “I don’t want to!”
I gently shook my head, “Beckham, do you remember why I married you in the first place?””
He was taken aback by my question and lowered his head.
I continued, “When I was very young, my father died, and my mother raised me on her own. But she always preferred my brother. I grew up with little love, constantly feeling insecure and sensitive. I was afraid to promise myself to anyone.
“But you were so good to me back then-you brought me breakfast every day, helped me with my presentations, and surprised me with little thoughtful gifts. You even won over my mom and earned the respect of my brother. You promised me you’d work hard to give me all the love I had missed…”
Beckham listened quietly, his eyes becoming redder with each word until he couldn’t hold back his tears, covering his face and sobbing.
I ignored his reaction and continued, “Beckham, since you can’t give me that love anymore, it’s better to let go. It’s best for both of us.”
Beckham lifted his head, his voice choked with emotion, “No, I don’t want a divorce, Athena. I regret it—I regret everything. I shouldn’t have agreed to any of it. I shouldn’t have done those things.”
I furrowed my brow, puzzled by his words.
Beckham wiped away his tears and said, “The truth is that the baby Anna is carrying isn’t mine, and she isn’t some mistress I keep on the side; she’s my ex-girlfriend’s younger sister.”
“My ex passed away last month, leaving only Anna behind. She was assaulted and became pregnant, but she has no idea who the father is. Before my ex died, she held my hand and begged me to care for her sister until she could give birth safely.
“Athena, you know… my ex once saved my life. She ended up with all those health problems because of me.”
The misunderstanding was resolved, but the explanation appeared almost absurd.
I closed my eyes for a moment, then said, “Beckham, that’s your debt, and if you want to repay it, I can’t—I won’t—but the pain you’ve caused me is real.”
Beckham’s voice was hoarse as he apologised: “I’m sorry, Athena. It was my fault.”
“Beckham, let’s leave it at that. I’m not here to argue about who’s right or wrong. I just want a divorce. I’m too tired.”
Beckham paused, his lips parted as if to speak, but then his phone rang. He looked at the caller ID, and I noticed a flicker of conflict in his eyes.