Chapter 83

Chapter 83

Can't let go of Beauchamp?

In my previous life's ten-year marriage, I'd done his laundry and cooking, managed every aspect of his daily life—it had become a deeply ingrained, detestable habit.

I loathed this habit, and loathed even more being misunderstood because of it.

Seeing the mockery nearly overflowing from Beauchamp's eyes, I ignored him, bent down to pick up those two garments piece by piece, and dusted off the dirt.

Then I turned and walked directly back to the shop.

"Excuse me," I said to the sales clerk.

The clerk paused, then recovered. "Ms. Neville, how can I help you?"

I handed over the clothes, my tone calm and flat. "I got the wrong size earlier. Could you exchange them for me?"

The smile froze on Beauchamp's face.

I didn't look at him, continuing to the clerk. "Exchange them for two sizes larger. My husband is tall—these are too small."

"Husband?" The clerk looked somewhat confused at Beauchamp standing not far behind me.

Before I could speak again, Ariana, beside me, suddenly laughed.

She stepped forward, linking arms with me intimately, her voice neither too loud nor too soft—just enough for the curious onlookers nearby to hear clearly. "Sophia, why are you still buying according to your old habits! Have you forgotten your handsome husband at home—six foot two, broad shoulders, narrow waist, and those long legs?"

Ariana continued, exaggeratedly holding up that cashmere sweater. "This size is way too small! On my Sophia's husband, wouldn't it be like a compression shirt? What a waste of that perfect physique! No way, we must exchange it!"

She shoved the clothes back to the clerk, raising her voice another notch. "Give us the largest size! It has to match that runway-model figure!"

Six foot two.

That number was like resounding slaps, viciously striking Beauchamp's six-foot-tall face.

The color drained from his face at a visible rate—from smug flush to shocked pallor, finally settling into the livid hue of public humiliation.

Suppressed chuckles came from the surrounding air.

Beauchamp's fists clenched tightly at his sides, veins bulging on the backs of his hands.

Ariana wasn't satisfied yet. While waiting for the clerk to get new clothes, she turned, her gaze passing over Beauchamp to land on Monica behind him.

Monica was looking at Beauchamp with those watery eyes, her face full of heartache and grievance, as if suffering terrible injustice.

Ariana looked at her, lips curving into a cold smile, then silently, clearly mouthed a word.

Homewrecker.

Monica's expression instantly froze.

In those tear-filled eyes appeared emotions beyond fragility—terror and venom.

Her hand gripping Beauchamp's arm unconsciously tightened, nails nearly digging through his suit fabric.

Beauchamp finally recovered from that enormous humiliation.

He didn't look at Ariana, instead lowering his head to soothe Monica with a gentle tone. "Mona, ignore them. Just jealous clowns."

He reached down to pick up the cashmere sweater I'd dropped earlier and handed it to the nearby clerk. "This one, and that suit from before—this size, wrap them up for me."

Looking at his ridiculous display, I couldn't even spare him an extra glance.

The clerk had already efficiently repackaged the exchanged, two-sizes-larger clothes and handed them to me.

"Let's go." I pulled Ariana and turned to leave.

Behind us came Beauchamp's forced casual voice. "Mona, let's go too. I'll take you to buy that bag you love."

Neither Ariana nor I looked back.

Walking out of the mall, the cool outdoor air rushed in, dispersing that suffocating gunpowder atmosphere.

Ariana exhaled deeply, her face still carrying a triumphant smile. "That felt great! So satisfying! Did you see Beauchamp's face? Like a color palette!"

She laughed heartily. I couldn't laugh.

"Ariana." I stopped, looking at her.

"What's wrong?" Ariana stopped laughing, looking at me with some concern. "You're not still sad about that scumbag, are you?"

I shook my head, looking into those clear, perpetually vibrant eyes, my heart aching. "I'm sorry."

Ariana froze. "Sorry for what?"

"Before," my voice was somewhat hoarse, "for him, I stood you up many times. Once I promised to go to the nail art exhibition with you. He called, and I left. You waited for me all afternoon."

That was from my previous life.

Back then, my heart and eyes were full of Beauchamp. I thought hanging out with girlfriends was less important than pleasing my husband.

I'd even thought Ariana was inconsiderate, always disturbing me at "important" times.

Looking back now, I'd been so stupid and blind.

Ariana clearly remembered this, too. Her smile faded, lips pouting as she mumbled quietly, "You still remember... I thought you'd forgotten long ago."

Her tone carried undisguised grievance.

"I remember." I looked at her seriously, word by word. "It won't happen again."

I didn't have many friends. Only Ariana was genuinely good to me.

In this life, I could lose anything except her.

Ariana's eyes immediately reddened.

She sniffled, punching me forcefully. "What's with you! Saying this out of nowhere—so sentimental! You're making me want to cry!"

I smiled, taking her hand. "Come on, I'll make it up to you. Let's go get our nails done right now—the most expensive place in the city, my treat."

"That's more like it!" Ariana immediately smiled, linking arms with me in return. "Let's go! Today I'm definitely making you spend big!"

Late at night, back at the apartment.

I placed today's shopping haul in the entryway, except for those two bags containing menswear, which felt heavy in my hands.

Ariana was right—with Sebastian's physique, he'd look good in anything.

Uncontrollably, an image formed in my mind of him wearing that gray cashmere sweater, his aloof temperament softened by the gentle fabric, his features becoming tender.

My heartbeat inexplicably skipped.

I stood in the living room holding those bags for a long time.

Upstairs was his room.

I only had to go up, knock on the door, hand him the things, say "thank you, this is a return gift"—everything would be natural.

But my feet seemed nailed in place, unable to move.

This wasn't just a return gift.

I knew it clearly in my heart.

After hesitating for a long while, I finally sighed and quietly hid those two bags deep in the entryway storage cabinet.

I'd wait a bit longer.