Chapter 92
Violet froze, then angrily questioned George, "That jade jewelry set. I told you a thousand times to personally give it to Grace as compensation for missing her birthday last year. Didn't you give it to her? Where is it?"
I stood there, feeling like all the blood in my body instantly froze, then rushed to my head.
Jade jewelry? Compensation for last year's birthday?
Fragments of memory rapidly pieced together.
Last year on my birthday, George was predictably too busy to be seen, didn't even bother with a perfunctory "happy birthday."
Violet found out afterward and was quite angry, saying she wanted to give me a makeup gift.
Turns out, she really did. A jade jewelry set she'd specifically bid on at an auction.
George's expression remained unmoved, his tone flat, "I forgot. I'll give it to her when we get back."
I said nothing, my heart a frozen wasteland, even anger seeming somewhat powerless.
I suddenly remembered the last time at the beach, when Sarah was holding George's arm, she seemed to be wearing a jade bracelet on her wrist.
At the time, I just found it glaring, but now thinking about it, that was probably what Violet had bid on.
He hadn't forgotten.
He'd already given it away, just not to me.
George dragged his feet on the divorce, yet had already completely removed and replaced me, his legal wife, from his life and his heart through his actions.
Assets, connections, even the elders' goodwill. Everything could flow to Sarah without any obstacles.
So what exactly was he still holding onto?
What did that marriage certificate actually mean to him?
A shield to placate Grandma and maintain surface harmony?
On the drive back, the air in the car was suffocatingly oppressive.
I pressed myself against the car door, keeping the maximum distance from George.
The silence lasted a long time before George suddenly spoke, his voice particularly clear and cold in the enclosed space, "Why won't you throw a birthday party for your mother? Grandma's suggestion wasn't bad."
I almost laughed at his concerned tone.
"George, fine - put on an act in front of Grandma, pretend we're in love, play the devoted son-in-law. But now it's just the two of us, and you're still performing? Aren't you tired?"
I made no effort to hide the sarcasm in my voice, "My mother said she doesn't want one, which actually saves you the trouble. You don't need to worry about it. Isn't that perfect for everyone? You should be happy. Why are you asking?"
George's fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white.
He turned his head, seeming to want to say something, his eyes dark and unreadable.
Just then, an abrupt ringtone broke the tense atmosphere in the car.
The ringtone was a somewhat off-key tune, but you could tell it was someone deliberately softening their voice to hum it.
Sarah's voice.
I laughed coldly, making no effort to hide my contempt, turning my head toward the night scenery flying past the window.
How loving! So loving that he'd set her tone-deaf singing as her special ringtone, constantly reminding everyone how special their relationship was.
George's movements paused. He clearly hadn't expected Sarah to call at this moment, and it had been broadcast out loud.
He quickly reached for his phone, but the ringtone had connected through the car's Bluetooth and automatically answered.
Sarah's sweet voice immediately filled the entire car, "George, are you done at Violet's? I'm finished with my stuff, still waiting for you at our usual place. What do you want to drink? I'll order it for you first."
The anticipation and intimacy in that voice were like an invisible slap, hitting me hard in the face.
And hitting George in the face, too. George had just been playing the good husband in front of Violet.
George's face darkened suddenly. He glanced at me quickly, and in that look there was no embarrassment, only irritation at being disturbed, at having his privacy exposed, and a hint of displaced anger.
As if my presence as an outsider made his sweet conversation with Sarah inappropriate.
How could I not understand what he meant?
He thought I was in the way, interrupting their lovey-dovey date time.
Fine.
I silently pulled at the corner of my mouth, clearly mouthing two words to him, "Got it."
Then, without any hesitation, I reached directly for the door handle.
The car was still moving, but I'd rather jump out than spend another second in this nauseating space.
"What are you doing?" George barked, one hand shooting out to grab my wrist.
The force was so strong it nearly crushed my bones.
On the phone, Sarah seemed to hear the commotion and asked in confusion, "George? What's wrong? Is there noise on your end?"
George's voice softened to soothe her, "Got it, you order first. I have something to deal with here. I'll come over after I'm done."
With that, he quickly hung up.
The car fell silent again, with only our slightly rapid breathing and the increasingly clear pain from my wrist.
"Let go!" I struggled hard, my voice cold enough to freeze.
Not only did George not let go, but he pulled the car over to the side, then turned to look at me with a frown, "Sit still, don't move around."
I was completely enraged by his matter-of-fact, controlling attitude.
His impatience had been so obvious just now. I thought he wanted me to tactfully leave on my own. I was thinking that rather than wait for him to tell me to get out, I'd leave first and at least preserve what little dignity I had left.
He didn't want to be blamed by Grandma, but couldn't bear to keep Sarah waiting, so he wanted to forcibly restrain me and quickly complete his task.
"George, let me out of the car." I suppressed my anger, speaking each word deliberately, "I can get home myself, you don't need to drive me."
George restarted the car, looking ahead, "I promised Grandma I'd get you home safely. Sit still, don't make me say it twice."
I was almost laughing at his shamelessness.
Promised Grandma? What about what he promised Sarah? What about what he promised me?
Those commitments and that respect. Could they just be trampled on at will?
"George, can you stop pretending?" I could no longer control myself, my voice trembling slightly, "You're really disgusting!"
George turned his head, frowning, and said, "Grace, when did you become so ill-mannered? Such vulgar language."
A huge sense of absurdity and powerlessness washed over me.
I knew that reasoning with someone who had no moral bottom line, arguing about right and wrong, was the most foolish and time-wasting thing in the world.
I closed my mouth, said nothing more, and stopped struggling.
The car was left with only suffocating silence and the low rumble of the engine.
The car finally stopped steadily downstairs from my apartment complex.
I almost immediately unbuckled my seatbelt, forcefully shook off his hand that was still loosely resting on my wrist, pulled open the car door, and rushed out without looking back, running toward the building entrance at top speed, as if some terrible beast was chasing me.
I didn't look back, so naturally I didn't see whether George stayed in place.
But I knew he probably wouldn't stay even one second longer. He'd definitely be eager to turn the car around and go see Sarah.
Back home, I closed the door and leaned against the cold door panel, finally feeling completely drained.
Where he'd gripped my wrist, it ached faintly, a circle of red marks appearing.
My phone vibrated. I took it out and saw it was a message from Violet.
Violet: [Grace, are you home? You and George are staying in the same room tonight, right? I know you young people are busy with work, but marital feelings need more time together to be good. Be more understanding with him. He's not good at expressing himself, but he actually cares about you in his heart.]