For three years of marriage, Li Juehan treated Shen Li as if she were invisible.
When Lin Wei smashed her makeup, sprinkled salt into her milk, or poured scalding broth over her, he always said the same thing: “Weiwei didn’t mean to.”
Only when Shen Li’s divorce papers hit him in the face did he realize that she had once carried his child, had spent three years in a marriage where he barely acknowledged her, and had walked away without looking back.
Later, he went bankrupt and lost everything, kneeling outside her dessert shop.
She pushed open the glass door and stepped out, flour on her apron and a plate of freshly baked souffles in her hands. He looked up at her, with warm yellow lights and the sweet scent of pastries filling the shop behind her.
She said, “Welcome. If you’d like to queue, please go out and turn right.”
She had loved him once. Then she stopped.
