13
I was discharged from the hospital before noon.
Although I was only seven weeks along, the doctor already arranged for prenatal care and prescribed supplements.
The first check-up was scheduled for a month later, but the excitement over the baby was palpable—not just for the doctor himself but for my parents, who had already called three times since an hour ago.
The doctor even offered to visit our house on his day off if Toop could not bring me to the clinic.
Though I felt a little hesitant, Toop, who was pushing my wheelchair, shook his head to stop me from refusing.
Gratefully, I accepted their kindness.
Toop, wearing a mask and sunglasses to cover his face, then drove us home.
I fell asleep on the way, still feeling fatigued, but when I woke up, the car was not parked at home.
Instead, we were at my favorite yen ta fo place near the university.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“This is-”
“The yen ta fo place. Yes, it’s the same one you wanted to eat at. Besides, it’s almost noon. If we waited until we got home, you’d end up nauseous again like yesterday.”
I was not particularly happy with myself lately, especially with how easily I wore my emotions on my face.
Before, even when he ignored me or said hurtful things, I could at least hide my feelings.
Now, though, just hearing his words made me far too emotional.
“Anshan.”
“Hic.”
I sniffled quietly as tears welled up.
I could not breathe normally as I looked at his face.
“Why are you sulking?
Sniffling?
I haven’t even said anything to upset you yet.”
“You did.”
I bit my lip as I retorted.
“Every time, you’re always criticizing me.”
“Anshan, I wasn’t—”
He stopped mid-sentence, perhaps frustrated with me.
But this was his fault—only his fault.
Yet, when our eyes met, his tears started falling again.
“Why are you crying?”
“Huh?”
Toop seemed startled by my observation.
He quickly touched his face and checked the car mirror.
“Again?”
I did not understand what was happening to him, but my earlier frustration with myself for being overly sensitive had melted away.
Now, I only felt hunger.
“Where are you going?”
he asked, grabbing my wrist.
“Didn’t you bring me here to eat yen ta fo?”
Toop sniffled as he wiped his tears.
Then, with a slight tilt of his chin, he nodded.
“Yes, but stay here.
I’ll go buy it myself.”
“With that many people?
How are you going to queue up without being recognized?
What if someone at the restaurant or one of your fans spots you?
Will you be okay?”
I worried about the potential hassle for him as a public figure.
Yesterday, he had managed to buy yen ta fo quickly because it was a weekday, but today was a weekend, and the place was packed.
Even though I was still upset with him, I did not want him to face unnecessary difficulties.
“So, you want me to let my pregnant wife go queue up instead?”
“Do we have another option? It’s almost noon, and I’m hung—ugh!”
Before I could finish, a wave of nausea hit me suddenly.
I quickly covered my mouth, though nothing came up.
I was still catching my breath when Toop seemed to show some unusual behavior that caught me off guard.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t know,”
Toop frowned.
“But seeing you get nauseous makes me—ugh!”
“Mr. Toop!”
His eyes widened, and he hurriedly opened the car door, stepping out without even putting on his hat or sunglasses.
“Blegh!”
“Mr. Toop!”
I was utterly stunned.
Grabbing my things, I rushed after him, finding him crouched by the car wheel, retching.
The sight left me feeling equal parts bewildered and amused.
Still, I was worried.
Yes, I was still mad at him, but seeing him like this—who could hold a grudge?
“Should we just go home?”
He waved me off immediately, looking up at me with red eyes—likely from retching and his earlier tears.
“You wanted yen ta fo, didn’t you? If we go home with your stomach empty, the baby will make a fuss.”
I could not help but smile, despite the tension between us that had persisted all day.
“What are you smiling about?”
“And you?”
Instead of answering, I returned his question, noticing a sudden smile tugging at his lips.
“What about me?”
“You’re.”
Did he not realize he was smiling after I just had?
“What about me, Anshan?”
I shook my head.
This was too strange.
First, he cried without knowing, and now he smiled unconsciously.
“Ah. What’s with the hat?”
He shrugged as he stood and offered me his hand to help me up.
“The sun’s blazing.
Don’t you feel it?
Come on, let’s head inside.”
“But—”
“Fans or no fans, let them see if they want to.
Is it so strange for a famous actor to eat yen ta fo that it should inconvenience his pregnant wife to endure her hunger?
Let’s go.”
I could not quite keep up with his logic, but his words almost made me smile.
I had to hold it back as I followed him into the yen ta fo shop I had missed so much.
I handed him a pair of sunglasses.
It seemed there was little reason to worry about his fame at the moment.
Inside, the elderly owner, who still remembered me despite my long absence, asked one of the staff to lead us to a familiar, slightly hidden corner of the shop with Toop not acting like his usual self in front of the camera.
From there, we could see everything clearly, but we were mostly out of sight from other customers.
Most people in the restaurant did not pay much attention to us, absorbed in enjoying the flavors of this renowned yen ta fo.
I smiled broadly at the first spoonful of the sweet and tangy red soup, while Toop, strangely enough, devoured his bowl with remarkable gusto.
The yen ta fo servings were quite large, and one bowl was enough to leave me feeling stuffed.
But Toop went on to order two more extra-large bowls, much to the delight of the elderly owner.
“It’s- pretty good,”
he said as we sat in the car, yet to leave the shop.
I frowned at him.
‘Pretty good?’ The way he ate screamed ’amazing!’
“What are you staring at? Do I have something strange on my face?”
I nodded.
“You ate so much, and all you can say is that it’s pretty good?”
“Well.”
He hesitated, clearly struggling to find the words.
“What?”
I quickly repeated my question.
Though I felt better, Toop appeared agitated.
His usual stern expression softened, replaced with a flustered look as he fumbled with the seatbelt.
“And what do you want me to say?
That yen ta fo is the best ever?”
“Delicious is delicious.
Why make it complicated?”
“Anshan.”
He narrowed his sharp eyes at me, a hint of annoyance in his tone, but I just stared back at him calmly.
“I’m just surprised you ate so much.”
My response did not dampen my mood as it often did when we bickered.
I was not upset or sullen; I was simply curious about his eating habits today.
“Alright, Anshan, alright. I’ll rephrase: this yen ta fo is genuinely delicious. Seeing how much you were enjoying it made me hungry for some reason. Satisfied?”
I shook my head repeatedly.
“I wasn’t looking for satisfaction; I just wanted to know.”
“You’re just—”
He cut himself off.
I was not mad or hurt by his usual straightforwardness, even if it seemed like he was displeased.
But my eyes instinctively wavered, perhaps betraying my feelings.
Maybe that was why he stopped mid-sentence.
A thought crept into my mind—could his symptoms were—”Fasten your seatbelt so we can get moving.”
His firm voice jolted me out of my thoughts.
I blinked and nodded, reaching for the seatbelt.
I probably imagined things, like always.
Even if there was a medical explanation, my mother had once said that if a husband experienced pregnancy symptoms, it meant he loved his wife deeply.
But Toop, Pasutha, did not feel that way about me.
The tears, nausea, and even his odd eating habits—they were probably just coincidences.
“I miss it,”
I murmured after brushing aside my thoughts. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
I sighed softly and turned to look out the window as Toop drove past the gates of my old university.
I had graduated years ago but often returned to eat at this yen ta fo shop.
“Where are you circling the car to?”
He glanced at me briefly.
“Didn’t you just say you missed it? I’m not stopping for you to get out, but I’ll drive by for you.”
I could not tell what his sharp eyes, hidden behind sunglasses, conveyed, but his gesture felt considerate and kind.
As the corners of my mouth twitched upward, I hesitated to smile fully.
Could I believe he was as thoughtful as I wanted to think he was?
My mind often wandered too far, but it always came back to him—back to my husband, whose thoughts were a mystery, yet I wished he loved me, even just a little.
“Starting tomorrow, I’m thinking of having the housekeeper come every day.”
“Why?”
As the car pulled into the garage but the engine remained running, Toop spoke out of the blue.
His words made me pause with my hand on the car door.
“You’re pregnant.”
He replied without looking at me.
I glanced down at my stomach before lifting my gaze to him again.
“Yes, I’m pregnant.”
“You’re pregnant, Anshan.”
My response had to have triggered something because, instead of his usual detached demeanor, he turned to face me with an unexpectedly serious tone.
“What if you faint or get dizzy while I’m not here? What then?”
His voice was firm, almost scolding.
But for once, I did not shrink back.
I held his gaze.
“I can still take care of myself.
Let the housekeeper come once a week as usual.”
“Anshan.”
“If you’re worried about the baby, I promise I won’t do anything that could harm them.
They’re my child too.
I’d like to rest now, Mr. Toop.
Excuse me.”
“Anshan.
An!”
I still heard his voice behind me.
It was not that the regular housekeeper was not good—she cleaned thoroughly and was easy to talk to—but our current arrangement worked just fine.
It was not that I was overly private; I had just gotten used to spending most of my time alone since moving in here.
“Wait, Anshan.”
“What’s wrong with you, Mr. Toop?”
I turned back to look at him as he caught my arm, preventing me from climbing the stairs.
His expression was stern.
“I should be asking you that.
Is this how you respond when I show concern?
By brushing me off?”
“Concern?”
I echoed his words.
His sharp eyes widened while his hand was tight.
“Isn’t that- what you wanted? For me to care? Well, I’m doing it now, aren’t I?”
I smiled faintly at him, but my mind swirled with mixed emotions.
Part of me was glad he was beginning to show some attention.
Yet, another part felt deflated.
Whether it was my hormones or his demeanor, I was not sure.
I did not feel bad if he was trying to adjust for the baby, but when I realized that this might simply be his sense of duty, my smile could not fully form.
“Anshan.”
“Yes?”
“What’s wrong?”
He moved as if to touch my cheek, but I just looked at him silently without answering.
Then my phone rang.
“It’s my mom,”
I told him after checking the screen to see who was calling.
Toop held my gaze for a moment before letting go of my arm.
“Hello, Mom. Yes? You and Dad are coming to visit me? Where are you right now—”
Before I could finish getting an answer from the cheerful voice on the other end, the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house.
Toop and I turned toward the sound almost in unison.
“An.
Son-in-law.
Are you two home!”
“Dad?”
[Yes, An, your mom and I are outside the house now.]
“Oh, Mom,”
I muttered, torn between laughing and sighing with how fast they were.
We had just talked earlier in the morning, and I had barely been home long when they called to say they would visit.
Moments later, their car was already parked at the gate.
Toop Pasutha walked out to greet them, his face wearing a welcoming smile.