Chapter 88 Done Being Nice to a Jerk
<b>64 </b>
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Purses. Shoes. Everything came perfectly paired, as if selected by a personal stylist.
Shawn, ever the gentleman, offered his opinions at the side–but every time he said something looked great, I picked the opposite. I bought only what I liked. He was clearly frustrated, though he didn’t say a word.
“Mr. Hartwell, your wife has such wless skin,” someone finally said, unable to hold back. A dress in a turquoise color–not easy to carry–looked downright refreshing on me.
Shawn smiled politely. “Thank you. That’s kind of you to say.”
By the time we were done, the entire morning had slipped away. Shawn carried all the bags to the car–more than a few, actually.
But I wasn’t going to feel bad about spending his money anymore. In my past life, every time he offered to buy me something, I’d act like a responsible, frugal wife. Until one day, Queena showed off an emerald bracelet worth over two million dors. She said she just nced at it, and Shawn had someone buy it for her.
That moment, I swear I heard my heart shatter. Shawn was rich—what difference did it make who spent his money?
Before I divorced him, I was going to walk away with an emerald bracelet in the million–dor league. He owed me that from thest life.
“Tired? Want to check out a few more shops?” Shawn asked softly.
“Nope. I’m starving,” I replied. Shopping was fun but exhausting. I needed food before I could power through round two.
Shawn’s eyes darkened slightly. I wondered if his mind had wandered somewhere it shouldn’t.
“Alright. What are you in the mood for?” He asked, extra gentle today.
I turned to him and asked, “Is Ms. Tackman still around?”
Chapter 88 Done Being Nice to a Jerk
<b>64 </b>
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“She’s having lunch at her grandma’s house today. Thereafter, she’ll be heading straight back to Hanzora,” he answered.
The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. <i>Why </i><i>did </i><i>I </i><i>even </i><i>ask</i><i>? </i>
<i>Idiot</i>. <i>Big </i><i>mouth</i>.
<i>Great</i>. <i>I </i><i>now </i>know <i>Shawn </i><i>kept </i><i>tabs </i><i>on </i><i>Queena’s </i><i>every </i><i>move</i><i>. </i><i>Way </i><i>to </i><i>crush </i><i>my </i>own <i>spirit</i>.
“Oh.” I suddenly felt like wandering off alone to enjoy the scenery.
Shawn looked at me, puzzled. “You always see Queena as your enemy. You’re hurting yourself for no reason. What’s the point?”
His words made my already bitter mood worse.
“There is no point. For lunch, I’d rather explore on my own. You can head back to Hanzora on your own.” I used to hold back from saying what I really thought, always worried about how he’d feel.
But not anymore. If I wanted something, I’d tell him. And if he tried to stop me, I had every right to throw a fit.
Sure enough, Shawn’s face darkened. He tapped his fingers against the car door. “You want me to leave early because Ethan’sing for that tech summit this afternoon, right? Did you two make ns?”
“What tech summit?” I was stunned and asked, “I haven’t heard anything about that.”
Shawn gave me a fake smile and probed, “Oh really? You expect me to believe that?”
I was shocked. <i>No </i><i>way</i><i>. </i><i>Is </i><i>Ethan </i><i>actually </i><i>here </i><i>in </i><i>Sylvania</i><i>? </i>
I nced at a row of banners pping in the breeze, attached to the nearby streetlights. In bold letters, they read: Wee to Sylvania Tech Summit, innovation for the future.
Chapter 88 Done Being Nice to a Jerk
64)
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Shawn followed my gaze to those banners fluttering in the wind, his expression turning even more unpleasant.
“Tiffany,” he said, his voice low but sharp, “it’s good to be bold—but pick the right time and ce for it.” Then, in amanding tone, he said, “Get in. We’re going back to Hanzora.”
I stared at those banners with aplicated expression. <i>Just </i><i>my </i><i>luck</i>.
Once I was in the car, Shawn told the driver, “Straight back to Hanzora, William.”
The whole ride back, Shawn leaned back with his eyes closed. He took two work calls but otherwise didn’t say a single word to me.
Before heading home, we stopped by his family house to pick up Yuna.
Lately, my mother–inw had been spoiling her silly. The moment Yuna climbed into the car, she curled into myp and asked to be held while she napped.
Shawn nced over at us. I didn’t know what was going through his mind, but he probably noticed–I was cold toward him, but toward Yuna too.
As the car rolled toward home, we passed by a familiar street. I noticed Shawn nce–just briefly–at a shop nearby. His lips pressed into a thin line.
That tiny action brought a flood of memories. Bittersweet ones.
Shawn used to love the fig bars from that shop. I’d always go out of my way to stop and pick up a pack so he could have them when he got home from work.
But this time, I didn’t even mention it. He probably felt a little disappointed.
<i>Haha</i>, <i>too </i><i>bad </i><i>for </i><i>you</i><i>, </i><i>jerk</i><i>. </i><i>I’m </i><i>done </i><i>being </i><i>nice </i><i>to </i><i>a </i><i>guy </i>who <i>never </i><i>deserved </i><i>it</i>.
Yuna soon drifted off to sleep in my arms. Shawn’s voice came darkly, “When are you going to buy me those fig bars again?”
I was brushing Yuna’s sweaty hair out of her face when I heard him ask that childishly.