Too Late to Say Sorry novel Chapter 7

The day David Johnson’s "white moonlight," Helena, returned to the country, he was in the middle of celebrating my birthday. He had baked a cake himself—it looked a bit sloppy, and I couldn’t help but tease him, tugging his arm, “You can’t even tell if the two little figures on top are male or female!”

But David just stood there, staring intently at his phone screen, completely ignoring my comment.

“David?” I called out, and he looked up, as if snapped out of a trance.

“Helena’s back,” he said. The moment I heard her name, my hand, which had been slicing the cake, froze mid-air.

“I need to go out for a bit. I’ll be back tonight,” he said, grabbing his coat without a single glance at me.

“But it’s my birth—” I reached out, trying to hold him back, only for David to harshly pull away. “Birthday? You’re not satisfied with just a cake?”

To David, a crooked cake was all I deserved. But for Helena Smith, every birthday, he would go above and beyond, choosing a gift months in advance and arranging for it to be specially delivered. Even though Helena was married, he never missed her birthday.

I watched David leave, his figure disappearing from sight. A sour ache surged within me, but there was nothing I could do to stop him. After he left, I sat alone, eating the cake. The sweetness of the frosting grew bitter with every bite. I finished my little cake figure, then threw the rest into the trash.

Night fell, and David still hadn’t returned. The next morning, he staggered into the bedroom, reeking of alcohol. He yanked me up from the bed, looking irritated. “Where’s the hangover soup?”

I tried to explain, “I didn’t know when you’d be back, so I—”

David cut me off, annoyed. “Why didn’t you wait on the sofa? Don’t you love waiting up for me?”

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