Chapter 64
He hauled his suitcase downstairs, his departure imminent. Megan’s delicate, fair fingers gently tugged at the hem of his shirt. Tears bordered on spilling from her eyes.
But Sullivan had no intentions of staying, simply because he didn’t love Megan. Despite her pleas, he got into the car and drove away Helf spent roughly a week in Harmony City- the same week Cressida underwent her first leg surgery, the same week the media uncovered his affair with Cressida, and the same week rumors of his marital infidelity first surfaced.
When Sullivan retumed from his business trip, Megan didn’t bring up her family problems. She did what she always did–unpacked his luggage, ran his bathwater. After his shower, Sullivan took her to bed twice. It was the most silent they had ever been during intimacy. neither made a sound. Megan buried her face in the pillow, stifling the pleasure, refusing to let any moans escape her.
She felt guilty
Afterward, he leaned against the headboard, lighting up a cigarette.
In a soft voice, Megan mentioned she needed money. Sullivan turned to look at her for a moment before writing her a check. It had been over a year, but Sullivan still remembered vividly how Megan’s fingers trembled, barely able to hold onto that check. He thought that must have been the moment Megan’s feelings for him died- no love, no fondness. From that moment on, longer Sullivan’s dear wife, but Mrs. Lowry,
A knock at the door jolted Sullivan from his reverie.
The maid’s voice called out, “The meal is ready, sir. Will you be dining now?”
she was no
“In a moment,” Sullivan replied, his gaze lingering on the last line of the diary before him- the final entry penned by Megan, a simple yet deafening sentence in Sullivan’s world.
[Sullivan will never love me!]
He read it over and over again.
Finally, he reached for a cigarette but didn’t light it, contemplating the emotions Megan must have felt writing those words.
Outside, the maid’s voice came again, “Sir, have you fallen asleep? The manor just called to say your mother wishes to see Mrs. Lowry, asking when you might bring her over for a chat.”
Sullivan put the diary away. He changed his clothes and went downstairs to eat. During the meal, the maid cautiously brought up the earlier conversation, adding, “Today is Mrs. Lowry’s birthday! Normally, the household would prepare a special meal for her.”
Sullivan’s hand paused, chopsticks in mid–air.
“Today is Megan’s birthday?” he asked.
The maid blurted out. “Yes, sir! Had you forgotten?”
Realizing her mistake, given the strained relations between Sullivan and his wife, and his notoriety for lavishing attention on his mistress, including a fireworks display for her birthday, the maid regretted her words.
Sullivan offered no reprimand.
After a moment, he said, “Go to the kitchen and make a birthday cupcake.”
The maid, thinking their marriage was warming up, happily complied. She returned with a delicate cupcake, garnished with the sentence “Happy Birthday” with Nutella, an aromatic delight
Sullivan quietly finished the cupcake. He thought to himself, this was the first time he celebrated Megan’s birthday, and likely the last Megan
was in pain. She wanted a divorce.
If this was what Megan desired, then he would grant it to her.
He thought there were plenty of women in the world, many of whom could become Mrs. Lowry. Why cling to a fling from three years ago and keep Megan tied to him? He didn’t love her; there was no need!
Indeed, no need at all.
