11
“Mr. Toop.”
I called his name as soon as I stepped into the house, still holding the bag of egg tarts that would surely taste delicious.
It was probably my heightened sensitivity to smells that made them seem unappealing, but it would not have been right to return them after Mr. Yai kindly brought them over, and I had already accepted them.
However, I owed him an apology—not only because Toop had honked his horn and opened the gate with no regard for anyone but also because I nearly fainted and had to rely on Mr. Yai’s help.
But why did my husband behave like that?
He had just arrived and did not know I was not feeling well, sure, but his loud entrance and refusal to acknowledge me despite my efforts to call out left me bewildered.
How was I supposed to tell him now that I wanted to see a doctor together?
Could I even admit that my dizziness was worsening as I hurried to catch up with him?
“Ugh.”
Before I could speak again, I felt another wave of nausea as I passed the living room.
I had to cover my mouth with one hand, afraid I might vomit suddenly.
“What’s wrong with you?”
I looked up at him, surprised.
I had assumed he went to the kitchen because I had seen him carrying a bag, probably filled with groceries, when he got out of the car.
But instead of going to the kitchen, he had placed the bag on a side table near the vase by the hallway of the house which had an indoor pool and walked toward me, who had stopped because of the dizziness.
“Just nauseous. Probably because I’m hungry—ah, Mr. Toop!”
I exclaimed in surprise.
“What? Your husband is just helping you sit down for a bit. Is that so shocking?”
I wanted to protest as he grabbed my arm and guided me to the sofa in the living room.
However, his next words hit me like a slap, leaving my face stinging.
“Did you forget to eat because you were too busy chatting with the neighbors?
You seem to get along with him quite well.
The other day, your husband comes home, and you’re just stepping out of their house.
And today, if I had come back any later, I wonder if it would’ve been just a bear hug at the gate.”
“Mr. Toop!”
“What!”
He seemed to take a liking to that word, yet I had never asked him directly.
He rarely addressed my doubts and confusion, despite the fact that he was the only one who could give me answers.
Now he was speaking the way he did to me after leaving me alone all night.
I had hoped to wake up in the morning to see him, but he was out until late.
And when he finally returned, he jumped to conclusions and lashed out as if I did not matter to him.
“Mr. Yai just brought me egg tarts that Miss Lek made.”
He squinted at the bag I still held tightly.
“Not just getting along with the brother, but the sister too? You’re quite the friendly neighbor.”
I nodded and lowered my gaze, avoiding his eyes.
“Yes.
They’re kind to me.
Maybe even kinder than you.”
“Anshan!”
The urge to vomit seemed to be replaced by a bitter lump in my throat.
It felt like we had gone back to the days before our trip to the island.
A month and a half of trying to adjust to living together seemed to have made things better—or so I had thought.
The truth was, I had been fooling myself again.
“Where are you going?”
I clenched my fists as I stood up, turning my back to him.
“Didn’t you bring something in earlier?
I’ll go plate it for you.”
“There’s no need.”
Toop’s sharp voice immediately dismissed me.
“The yen ta fo from that shop you’ve been whining about can’t possibly compare to those egg tarts your oh-so-thoughtful neighbors made and brought over, can it?
I should’ve just come straight home after wrapping up at the set.”
“You went to buy—”
I turned around to ask him if his late return today—unusual for him—was because he had gone to pick up yen ta fo for me.
Just a few days ago, during dinner, I had mentioned craving it, especially from that shop I frequented back in my university days, which only opened at 11 AM.
But before I could finish my question, Toop grabbed the bag, which likely contained the yen ta fo, and tossed it straight into the trash.
“Mr. Toop!”
“Yes, I bought it.
But how could it possibly taste better than your precious neighbor’s egg tarts, baked with love and delivered to you practically in an embrace? This chapter was copied from NovelPing without permission.
Go ahead, enjoy it to your heart’s content until you stop fainting!”
“You’re insufferable, Mr. Toop.
That’s food.
Food that you bought for me!”
It was the first time he had ever personally bought something for me—without relying on P’Thian, his secretary from the company, or his personal manager in the entertainment industry.
“Is it that important?
You have your egg tarts—”
“I don’t care about egg tarts or anything else.
If you bought it for me, it’s mine!”
My voice rose, trembling, while my chest tightened painfully.
“But you threw it in the trash.
Why did you come home so late?
Every time we try to talk and work things out, you always manage to turn it into a mess.
Can’t there be just one time—just one day—when you come home and ask me, how my day was, or if I was okay.
Or tell me that you’re tired from work today and asked me to give you a massage.
Just say something—anything—and I would gladly do it for you.
But earlier, I only went to talk to our neighbors, who have been nothing but kind since they moved in.
And before you got home, I felt dizzy and nauseous to the point of almost fainting.
It was Mr. Yai who helped me.
And then you still act like this.
You’re still the lousy husband who tells me to stop keeping things to myself, but never bothers to ask or understand anything.
You just criticize, belittle, and accuse me!”
“Anshan—”
“You—you—hic!
You’re—”
“Don’t make that face, Anshan.”
His order came with his widening sharp eyes as he quickly approached me while my eyes welled up with tears.
“You’re so awful.
Even now, you’re still commanding me not to—hic—not to—”
“I told you not to make that face, you fool.
You’re not allowed to cry—”
“M-Mr.Toop…”
From sobbing and teary-eyed, ready to burst, I found myself frozen as he reached out and gripped my shoulders.
As I met his gaze, I was taken aback.
Despite his sharp words, tears were streaming down his own cheeks.
“Mr. Toop, what’s wrong?
Why are you—why are you crying?”
“What do you mean?”
It was as if he did not realize his own tears were falling.
When I raised my hand to touch his cheek, he seemed to finally sense something.
One of his hands lifted to touch his face, and he sniffled audibly.
“What is this? How are my tears falling?”
His other hand wiped at his cheek, seemingly drying the colorless drops with his action.
But when he looked at me, still teary-eyed.
“Hic. What the hell is this?”
More tears fell from his eyes, confusing me even further.
Things only calmed down when he noticed me swaying from dizziness again.
Despite the tension between us, he supported me to sit down and rest.
By late afternoon, he took me to a hospital where his trusted doctor worked.
The reason for Toop’s sudden tears remained unknown, but I guessed it might have been due to eye strain or exhaustion from working in front of the camera.
Though my anger over the neighbor’s situation had not subsided, I suggested he visit the ophthalmology department for an eye check while we waited for my test results.
Yet, he remained seated, unmoving, until the doctor—whose schedule during this time only had me as a patient—returned with a warm smile on his face.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. So, Anshan, do you still feel nauseous or queasy?”
The doctor began with a follow-up question.
Earlier, he had asked about my symptoms and ordered additional tests.
I nodded slightly.
“It’s still there, but not as bad as it was around noon.”
“And you, Toop?
What happened?
Why do your eyes look swollen, like you’ve been crying?”
Toop glanced at me before replying awkwardly,
“Just a lack of rest, Uncle.
I got back from the set and haven’t had any sleep yet.”
His answer was not entirely untrue—he had not slept.
But he did not mention the sudden tears that had streaked down his face earlier.
The doctor, who nodded in understanding, always exuded a cheerful demeanor.
At our simple yet heartfelt wedding, he had offered his blessings in a way that brought vibrance to the ceremony.
Now, his gaze was just as sincere as it had been then, filled with genuine care.
“Ah, I see.
But both of you need to start taking better care of yourselves.
Got it?
Toop, make sure to get enough rest.
It’d be good if you could manage your work schedule a bit better these days, so you’ll have time to look after Anshan as well.”
“Uncle—”
“What?
I’m not done yet.
Husband of the patient, sit still, and we’ll talk afterward.”
Toop looked exasperated, contrasting with the doctor’s seriousness mingled with a hint of amusement.
The doctor cleared his throat and adjusted his posture, giving me—his patient—a reassuring smile that eased my nerves.
“For the patient—no, I should say, for my nephew-in-law.
From now on, whether in my capacity as a family elder or as your attending doctor, I want An to start taking better care of yourself.
This is just the beginning.
Going forward, you must eat nutritious food regularly and not let your stomach go empty like today.
You’re not the only one who needs food anymore.
The little one growing inside you needs it too.”
“Uncle—what did you say?”
It was not my voice questioning, as I was still processing the smiling doctor’s words.
It was Toop who had spoken, now leaning closer to me as he stared at the doctor.
“What?
Did I not make myself clear?
Or is it that the soon-to-be fathers are having trouble hearing?”
“He’s- already here?”
This time, it was me who asked, my heart pounding harder.
The doctor nodded, sitting up straight with a beaming smile that made his earlier joy seem subdued in comparison.
“Yes, the little one is already here, nephew-in-law. Anshan, you’re seven weeks pregnant. As your doctor, let me congratulate you both on becoming parents. And as your uncle—and soon-to-be granduncle—I extend my warmest congratulations to the two of you. Excellent work, Toop.”
I was speechless.
My lips trembled, my hands shook at the news the doctor had shared.
My heart raced as if it might give out.
The corner of my eyes felt hot.
The baby, my baby.
I instinctively raised a trembling hand to touch my stomach, but I froze when I felt another hand reach out first, shaking just as much as mine.
I turned to look at him, tears welling in his eyes but not yet falling.
“Mr. Toop.”
Suddenly, the larger hand resting against my stomach through my light-colored long-sleeve shirt was joined by Toop’s gaze, meeting mine perfectly.
His sharp eyes mirrored the same tremor of emotion as mine.
But what stood out even more was his cheek.
“Toop, are you so happy you’re crying?”
“I’m not crying, Uncle!”
He denied it loudly, but when his eyes met mine—my own staring at him at lost in disbelief—as soon as I sniffled back my own tears, Toop’s eyes overflowed again, prompting the doctor to burst out laughing.
What on earth was happening to him?