Chapter 4
NovelPotato ·
Chapter 4
I'd always kept records of my work. Back then, I'd been too certain that love needed no proof.
On the fourth day, Gu Huai went to my old studio. Of course, he didn't find me. I'd given up the premises; the new tenant's details were already posted on the door.
The woman at reception recognized him and looked a little nervous.
“Mr. Gu, Ms. Su has moved out. Three days ago.”
He stood in the doorway.
“Where did she go?”
“I don't know.”
“Her new number?”
“She didn't leave one.”
His face darkened. “I'm her husband.”
The woman's voice grew quieter.
“Ms. Su said she's no longer Mrs. Gu.”
The words struck him like a blade. He took out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. Only then did he realize he didn't even know who my friends were.
I'd told him.
“This is Lin Xi, my friend from university. We're very close.”
He'd been replying to Shen Qinghe's messages at the time and had barely murmured an acknowledgment.
“Xiao Zhou's invited me for hot pot next week. Would you like to come?”
He'd said he was busy. After that, I'd stopped asking.
Now, standing outside my empty studio, he finally understood. In all those years, I'd barely been allowed into his life. I'd wanted to enter. He'd never let me.
The receptionist hesitated.
“Mr. Gu, Ms. Su left a message before she went.”
He looked up. “What message?”
“She said not to put through any more calls asking for ‘Mrs. Gu.’”
The woman faltered, apparently afraid to continue.
He stared at her. “What else?”
“She said that title disgusted her.”
He froze. It was like a slap across his face, leaving his cheeks burning.
Back at the company, he'd barely entered his office when his assistant brought him a letter from my lawyer. I had formally authorized legal representation in the division of our marital assets and the dispute over authorship credit.
The attached evidence was extensive. Shared expenses. Guarantees. Misappropriated designs. Original files for the company's early branding. Correspondence, chat records, edit timestamps.
Everything was clear and orderly.
On the last page was a screenshot of a message he'd sent himself.
“You're my wife. You don't need to compete with Qinghe over a little recognition.”
His hand stopped moving.
He'd once seen nothing wrong with those words. Husband and wife shouldn't keep score. Only now did he recognize that all his talk of not keeping score had meant deciding whose interests mattered.
Shen Qinghe wanted recognition; he gave it to her. His mother wanted prestige; he gave it to her. The company needed funding; he gave it what it needed.
When I wanted my name on my own work, he told me to be reasonable.
His phone rang. The hospital.
“Hello, Mr. Gu. Our records show that you were previously Ms. Su Wen's emergency contact. We need to update her postoperative follow-up information. We haven't been able to reach the family contact previously listed, so we're calling to confirm whether your contact details should now be removed.”
He sprang to his feet.
“What operation did she have?”
A pause.
“I'm sorry. The details of her condition are confidential. We can't disclose them.”
“I'm her husband.”
“Our records show that Ms. Su requested a change of emergency contact.”
He gripped the phone until his knuckles went white.
“When did she have surgery?”
After a brief silence, the caller answered, “The day the divorce was registered.”
He stood in his office for a long time after the call ended. Then he grabbed his car keys and rushed out.
6
The staff at the nurses' station still remembered him. More accurately, they remembered me.
When he arrived, he looked distraught. He stopped at the counter and tried to lower his voice.
“What operation did Su Wen have?”
The nurse glanced at him.
“That's private patient information. We can't disclose it.”
“I'm her husband.”
She checked the records, her voice level.
“The system shows that Ms. Su has changed her emergency contact.”
He seemed unable to understand.
“I asked what operation she had.”
The nurse looked up.
“Mr. Gu, you can't decide you're family only when it suits you.”
He went pale. People nearby turned to look.
Holding back his anger, he asked, “What do you mean?”
The nurse put down her pen.