Chapter 8 Here Comes The Witch

• A warm, fluffy blanket was draped over me. The next moment, I felt a soft kiss on my cheek.
• Afterward, I could hear him shuffling around the room, eventually realizing that he was cleaning up the mess we had made. My heart clenched inside my chest with a strange, foreign emotion that I couldn't place my finger on.
• When he finished cleaning, he carried me to my bedroom and tucked me in, even remembering to pour a glass of water and set it out on my nightstand. What a good... friend.
• Absolutely worn out, I drifted off to sleep not long after he left the house.
• I vaguely registered someone lying down next to me in my sleep. When I jerked awake, I saw Lyle sprawling on the bed, reeking of alcohol.
• So he hadn't gone to seek comfort in another woman but in alcohol instead?
• I pinched my nose as disgust welled up inside me. Even so, I got out of bed to draw a bath for him. Then I helped him out of his clothes and into the tub before going downstairs to prepare some pain relief pills for his oncoming hangover.
• I used to do this regularly for him in the past as I pitied him for staying out so late to attend business dinners and meetings, but looking back on it now, I wanted to laugh at my own stupidity. He hadn't deserved my pity at all.
• After downing the pain relief pills, Lyle caught me off guard by pressing me onto the bed and trying to kiss me, the aftertaste of alcohol still in his mouth.
• As he sat on top of me like a king sitting atop a throne, I knew that he had to either still be drunk or be mistaking me for another girl.
• I turned my head to one side to avoid his mouth. Sex between us had never been a common occurrence. Moreover, I had grown an aversion to it after finding out that he was cheating on me.
• However, he didn't take the hint, hovering over me and kissing my ear as his hands slipped under my pajamas. “Dear...”
• Christopher had done this exact same thing to me before, but it felt gross when Lyle was the one doing it.
• I briefly wondered if I had gotten addicted to Christopher as well. Is the saying that the best way to a girl's heart is through their body true after all?
• “It's late. We should get some sleep,” I told Lyle with my hands pressed against his chest in an attempt to push him away. “Besides, you have work tomorrow morning.”
• Without another word, I turned my back to him and pulled the covers all the way up to my chin.
• He didn't say anything, flipping over and quickly dozing off.
• Was he hoping for this? For me to not return his affections?
• Lyle continued to come home late for the next few days. Although he no longer smelled of alcohol, he didn't dare look me in the eye, just like before.
• My love for him had died out a long time ago, and I was getting ready to divorce him.
• Christopher, on the other hand, kept making frequent trips to the house, calling me “Yvonne” in public and “minx” in bed.
• “Did you miss me, little minx?” He appeared in my living room out of nowhere once again.
• Before I even had the time to react, he had already pulled me into his embrace.
• I turned my head slightly to squint at him. “Did you secretly steal a set of my house keys?” I was sure that I had locked the front door.
• “What do you mean by 'steal'?” He held his key up in the air, waving it around with an innocent smile. “I've always had one.”
• Oh. I had forgotten that when the locks in our house were broken about half a year ago, Lyle had done nothing to fix the problem. Instead, Christopher had been the one to go out and find a locksmith for us.
• Does that mean he's had our house key for half a year now? What does he plan to do with it?
• “Have you planned on sleeping with me for six months straight?” I inquired curiously.
• His smile faded, replaced by a completely serious expression. “You were always mine, to begin with.”
• I was moved by the statement. However, there was a small voice in the back of my head, reminding me that men's serenades and praises were not to be fully trusted. In fact, Lyle served as a good example.
• He started laughing like an idiot when I didn't reply. “I'm hungry. What are we eating today?”
• “Caramelized pork.”
• Instantly, his expression soured as if recalling the taste of the awful caramelized pork from before.
• “Can we eat something else? Please, Eve?” he whined, nuzzling his face against the crook of my neck.
• Holding back my laughter, I asked, “Why? Did you not like it when I cooked for you last time?”
• He raised an eyebrow. “I loved it,” he forced out.
• This time, I couldn't stop my laughter from escaping me.