As thoughts returned and the night deepened, it was past midnight. I began coughing again, the taste of blood in my throat growing stronger. It was time for treatment, to perhaps extend my life a little longer and enjoy my final days. I started waiting for Zoe's divorce papers. Once divorced, I could leave.
The sound of high heels approached at dawn. I woke from a nightmare, turning my head towards the door, only to realize a severe neck pain and internal agony. It turns out I had fallen asleep in the chair, the red wine and steak on the table untouched.
Zoe opened the door. She had become mature and sharp, like a female general in the business world. Usually, she'd come home with a lingering vigor, immediately saying she was hungry. I would cook for her, prepare a bath, ready herbal foot soaks, and massage her shoulders…
But today, she didn't express hunger upon returning, just humming a tune while taking off her high heels, not even noticing I was waiting for her.
"Back already?" I smiled, but blood spilled from my dry lips as I opened my mouth. I hurriedly covered it with a tissue, pretending to wipe off grease.
Zoe looked at me, her smile fading, her humming stopped, her expression complicated and conflicted. Clearly, she was about to bring up divorce. But having been cared for like a daughter for ten years, she found it hard to broach the subject. After all, even a dog raised for ten years would be missed, let alone a person.
I, too, had feelings. So I didn't bring it up, instead asking with an inexplicable emotion, "Where were you all night?"
"Busy at work," Zoe avoided my gaze, lying effortlessly.
I sighed, rising to prepare breakfast—she only liked the meals I cooked, not accustomed to the housekeeper's cooking.
"Lu Changhe, aren't you tired?" Zoe suddenly asked.
I stopped and looked at her. "Tired of what?"
"You've taken care of me for ten years, almost like a servant, more so than any housekeeper. Aren't you tired?" Her lips were tightly pressed.
"Not at all, I quite enjoy being your pretty boy," I laughed lightly, but the laughter triggered a wave of nausea, and I couldn't help coughing.
"Caught a cold?" Zoe took a step forward but then stopped, as if deliberately keeping a distance.
A moment of sadness passed through me. In the past, Zoe would have come forward to touch my forehead, even though I'm a grown man.
"It's nothing, you rest. I'll make breakfast."