Cecilia Ye glanced up at him before turning away to gaze out the window again, her voice flat as she asked, “Did you want something?”
Xavier Foster looked at her, the way she sat curled up on the chair by the window, knees hugged to her chest. Hearing her so cold and distant made something twist in his heart—he hated it when Cecilia Ye treated him like this.
Irritated, he strode over and sat at the edge of the bed, facing her. He reached out and gently turned her head to face him.
Her chin was caught and angled back; Cecilia Ye’s clear, glassy eyes met his. She frowned. “What are you trying to do?”
“You heard it. Everything that happened back then was a lie. We didn’t get to the bottom of it, but now Vivian Belle has nothing to do with me anymore.”
His sharp brows were knit in frustration. Cecilia Ye had heard it all—he would draw the line with Vivian Belle; there’d be nothing left standing between the two of them.
The uneasy feeling inside Xavier Foster only grew worse.
“From now on, I won’t have any more contact with Vivian Belle. I don’t need to keep my promises to her. We don’t have to get divorced.”
...
Cecilia Ye stared at him in shock, feeling a chill seep through her heart. This was always how Xavier Foster was—he alone decided everything: whether they would divorce, or whether they wouldn't.
She shook her head. “There are only four days until the New Year. Whatever’s going on between you and Vivian Belle is your business. It has nothing to do with me.”
The hand gripping her chin tightened a little. Xavier Foster clenched his teeth.
“Cecilia, I can apologize to you. For what happened before, because of Vivian Belle’s situation, I can say sorry.”
Shock flickered in Cecilia Ye’s eyes—the first time she’d ever heard an apology from him. So even this man, the president of the Fu Group in Beijing, could say sorry, after all.
But why? Why was he apologizing to her now? Her happiness or sadness had never really mattered to Xavier Foster. If it did, why had he left her to be hurt and disappointed so many times?
Cecilia Ye couldn’t understand. She refused. “I know. There’s no need to apologize. I don’t need it.”
“I’ve made up my mind. Divorce has nothing to do with Vivian Belle. The fact is, you don’t love me. I shouldn’t force things.”
“Even without Vivian Belle, one day you’ll meet someone you actually like—but I know it won’t be me.”
She said a lot all at once, then took a deep breath. If you cared even the tiniest bit for me, how could you let me be hurt over and over? I don’t want to keep hoping anymore. Without hope, there won’t be despair.
“There isn’t anyone I like!”
Xavier Foster cut her off, his voice low and rough, anger slipping out despite himself.
Cecilia Ye met his gaze, asking steadily, “So, if it hadn’t all been a scam with Vivian Belle, you wouldn’t have apologized, and we’d still be getting divorced, right?”
“Should I be grateful that it was all a lie, just so I could get your apology?”
Her clear eyes stared at him silently. Xavier Foster, you don’t really understand what it means to care about someone. For you, 'love' is just about possession and control. Like a toy: when you’re tired of it, you toss it in a corner; when you remember it, you pick it up again for a bit of fun.
But I’m not a toy. I get hurt. I get disappointed.
Cecilia Ye stood up, no longer looking at him, and slipped past him down the stairs.
“If it hadn’t been a lie...”
Xavier Foster repeated, massaging his brow, a stifled breath caught in his chest. He reached up, only now realizing he wasn’t wearing a tie—today he had on a sweater. Heh. So this is what comes of talking about feelings. It’s nothing but trouble.
It was nearly dinnertime. Aunt Whitney was putting dishes out on the table.
“Aunt Whitney, let me help—it all smells wonderful.”
She came over to lend a hand, eager for something to distract herself.
“All right, all right, but be careful not to burn yourself. I made plenty of your favorite shrimp—eat lots, all right?” Aunt Whitney smiled.
“Okay.”
After a simple dinner, Cecilia Ye went up to her room to rest. Maybe it was because she’d finally figured some things out and set her mind to it, but that night she fell asleep quickly for once.
*
The first day of the New Year arrived in no time. Because she was pregnant, Cecilia Ye had been extra sleepy recently. Thankfully, her grandparents let her rest undisturbed.
Grandpa Rivers and Grandma Rivers were old-fashioned—they insisted on new clothes for the New Year and pasting up festive banners. The servants were probably putting up the Spring Festival couplets even now.
Cecilia Ye changed into her new clothes: a plain white sweater for layering, a wine-red plaid pleated skirt. Since she was going out to watch the couplets put up, she added a soft apricot-colored coat. She looked like a pink little dumpling—nothing like a soon-to-be mom.
She patted her unchanged belly and whispered, “Happy New Year, baby.”
Downstairs, as she expected, everyone was busy sticking up the banners, and the table was set with all kinds of nuts and candies. The front door was wide open, and a gust of wind made even fully bundled Cecilia Ye shiver.
“Cecilia, you’re up! Did you sleep well?”
Grandma Rivers was standing by the door and waved her over. Cecilia Ye walked over, face a little flushed—clearly, she was the last one up again.
“Grandma Rivers, I slept great.”
Grandpa Rivers was outside, directing Uncle Zhou as he put up the banners. He looked radiant, his little cane in hand as he pointed and commented.
“To the left, more to the left. Old Zhou, I said left. Yes, yes—watch out, it’s crooked!”
Grandma Rivers rolled her eyes at Grandpa Rivers and winked at Cecilia Ye. “Now you’re up, get something to eat first.”
“Okay.” Cecilia Ye really was hungry, so she headed into the dining room. There, she saw Xavier Foster, who was leaning back in a chair with a newspaper after breakfast.
She steadied herself and sat at a seat farther from him. Aunt Whitney brought her favorite soy milk, and Cecilia Ye sipped it slowly.
As she ate, she caught Xavier Foster in her peripheral vision putting down his newspaper—and then sensed his gaze following her. Since their falling out, they’d hardly spoken.
Xavier Foster looked at Cecilia Ye. In past years, the two of them would wake up together, lay out each other’s new clothes for the day, and wish each other a happy New Year first thing. But this year, he couldn’t even care about new clothes. The room had been freezing and empty when he got up—just him, alone. It was a terrible feeling.
Cecilia Ye did her best to ignore his gaze, hurried through her food, and left the dining room as soon as she finished.
Grandpa Rivers and Grandma Rivers were in high spirits all day; lively New Year’s programs played in the background.
All of them gathered in the afternoon to make dumplings with Aunt Whitney. Grandpa Rivers really had learned—his dumplings actually looked pretty decent.
Halfway through, Henry Hart even stopped by, said his New Year’s greetings to everyone, then went to the study to find Xavier Foster. When they both came down again, they left together for a while before only Xavier Foster returned.
The New Year’s Eve dinner was especially lavish. In Beijing tradition, the evening meal starts late; it was after eight before it began. Grandpa Rivers was granted two rare little cups of wine by Grandma Rivers tonight, and drank happily.
Once he’d had a little to drink, Grandpa Rivers got extra talkative; by the end of the meal, he’d told the story of his and Grandma Rivers’s romance twice, much to Cecilia Ye’s amusement.
Eventually, talk turned to Cecilia Ye and Xavier Foster. Grandma Rivers stuffed a meatball into Grandpa Rivers’s mouth to silence his rambling, bringing that conversation to an abrupt end.
Cecilia Ye knew her grandparents wished for her and Xavier Foster to be happy together. But they simply hadn’t managed it.
After dinner, Xavier Foster, for once, spoke up, saying he’d prepared a little surprise for everyone in the courtyard.