My Wife Said Only Death Could Set Me Free

Chapter 3

"Of course I remember." The owner smiled even wider. "You and your girlfriend were so close; you came here every day for my cupcakes. I can't forget you two."

I awkwardly smiled.

Back then, Lyra and I didn't come here just because we loved the cupcakes; we simply wanted to see how long it would take for the shop to close down.

At that time, Lyra's family hadn't faced any issues; everything was still wonderful. She was a pampered girl who had never known how a complete cake was made. Every visit left her in awe of the owner's skills.

I still remember when the owner held a baking class. There weren't many people, but Lyra and I were drawn in.

From separating egg yolks and whites, to whipping the egg whites and baking a complete cake, the whole process felt magical and healing.

Just the rich aroma of the cake base was enough to make our mouths water, not to mention the cream that came later.

In the end, the owner shared the cakes we made in that class with us.

While we ate, he teasingly told Lyra, "Young lady, if you want to win a man's heart, you have to win over his stomach. You've been learning for so long, but you still can't bake a cake."

Back then, Lyra was a competitive, rich girl. She proudly said, "It's just baking a cake; how hard can it be? We'll learn it in a flash!"

'Just baking a cake; how hard can it be...' Those same words, spoken years later by the same person, felt so different now.

So many years had passed, yet when someone mentioned the past, Lyra's naive face still popped into my mind.

I realized I couldn't truly let go.

In fact, emotions surged within me, tightening my chest, like a heavy stone was blocking my breath.

I was holding it back to the point where I nearly couldn't help but shed tears.

The owner continued smoothing the cream on the cake and asked excitedly, "What about that girl who was always by your side?"

"We... are getting a divorce," I replied honestly.

The owner suddenly stopped, leaving a deep scratch on the cream.

I casually smiled, pointing to a few baking ingredients in the display. "Could you pack these up for me, please?"

When I got home, the large house felt oddly empty. Luka was right; cream is hard to frost. I needed to prepare it ahead of time based on when they got home. But the cake sat on the table until dawn, and no one came back.

I curled up on the carpet, my legs tucked beneath me. I felt numb, and the more I felt that way, the less I wanted to move.

If Lyra promised she would come back, then she would.

Suddenly, the phone rang in the living room, forcing me to get up and answer it. I heard Lyra's somewhat dazed voice. "No need to wait; I'm not coming back."

Rarely, Lyra had canceled on me for Luka. She had never done this for any man before. Maybe this time, she really had fallen for him?

I looked at the beautiful cake on the table and picked up a fork to take a bite.

I had put so much effort into making this; it would be a pity not to eat it.

Cream cakes couldn't be left out for too long; or the cream would melt, becoming soggy and greasy, like spoiled pudding.

Maybe it was because of the unpleasantness of the cream, my head started throbbing uncontrollably.

At first, it was just a dull ache; I leaned back on the sofa. But then it got worse, and my body began to spasm uncontrollably. This time, the pain felt unbearable.

It hurt so much that I thought, 'Am I going to die like this?'

Eventually, the pain made me feel a bit disoriented. In a daze, I thought I saw Lyra.

Time pulled back to the year when we loved each other the most. Whenever I had a headache or fever, she was terrified and took such careful care of me.

I desperately grabbed her hand, wanting to nestle in her arms like before. "Babe, hug me; if you hug me, it won't hurt anymore."

When my awareness returned and I opened my eyes again, all the lights in the room were on.

The blinding crystal chandelier on the ceiling made my vision a bit hazy.

Plop—

A cup was put down hard on my bedside table. I looked up and met Luka's scornful gaze, and my thoughts started to come back.

Luka glared at me with intense aggression. "I really underestimated you; your acting is even better than mine. With this performance of pretending to be sick, you'd definitely win an Oscar."

I wasn't sure where his inexplicable anger came from. All I knew was my head still throbbed, and I didn't want to engage. Lyra walked over from the living room, a faint smile on her face. She was holding the cake with melted cream.

The cake had been sitting out too long to eat, but she took a bite nonchalantly, just like before. "Hmm, you always whip the cream better than me."

That year, she was determined to learn bakery from the owner of the shop. I was by her side every day; she didn't quite learn, but I ended up becoming quite skilled.

I didn't want to dwell on it, forcing my thoughts to that time she called to say she wouldn't be coming home. So, I asked directly, "Why are you back?"

She replied, "I wanted you to send something, but you didn't answer my calls. I was worried something happened at home, so I came back."

No wonder Luka was so hostile toward me; he probably thought I was pretending to be sick to get Lyra's attention. But honestly, I was on the verge of death.

Lyra set the leftover cake on the table and walked toward me, casually massaging my head. "You really don't make it easy for me. You didn't think to grab some painkillers beforehand with migraines?"

This felt surreal. I couldn't even remember the last time she showed me this kind of care.

Luka stood behind her, watching, his eyes full of displeasure, but his face hid it well.

No wonder he knew Lyra's preferences better than anyone.

Lyra seemed to notice me looking at Luka and glanced back, her eyes brightening even more. She turned and patted Luka's shoulder, smiling. "Mr. Smith's old ailment flared up; I need to keep an eye on him tonight, so you head back first."

Her tone was so casual, treating him more like a pet. Luka seemed to struggle to keep his cool and tried to speak, "Lyra…"

But she cut him off before he could finish, her voice as cold as ice, "Luka, you're getting more disobedient."

Luka knew exactly what that meant. If he wanted to stick around Lyra, he had to play by her rules.

He turned and left obediently, while I asked, feelings complex, "Are you really okay with leaving him alone?"

She said, "But you need someone to take care of you."

Everything that just happened was real. My Lyra had come back.

She headed into the kitchen and soon returned with a glass of lemonade. "Drink some lemonade; it's refreshing and might help your headache." She seemed to be in a good mood.

"Lyra, I don't like the sourness of lemon; have you forgotten?" The sourness of lemon was like the helpless against fate. I really hated it.

Lyra knew my preferences; she just didn't care anymore and wouldn't remember.

She stood there, stunned, holding the cup. I took the lemonade and dumped it straight into the trash. "Go keep Luka company; I don't need anyone to take care of me."

Lyra's gaze grew colder with my actions. Suddenly, she pushed me back onto the bed, gripping my neck. The abruptness caught me off guard, and the pain started to throb again.

She forced me to meet her gaze, her voice icy, "Isaac Smith, I already bought ticket of your 'show'. What's this new act you're pulling?"

I realized I'd been pinned down by her too many times; this time, I was oddly calm. "Lyra, you think too highly of yourself. Whether I'm really in pain or not, I never want you to come back."