“When I was a governess for the Hill family. Remember their gardener, Max?”

Noticing he was attentively listening, Louisa became excited.

“I knew he was skilled at pruning trees, but he also cultivated his own plots. So, I sometimes helped him and brought home some of the produce.”

Edward recalled the small baskets of vegetables she occasionally brought home.

So that was it.

He realized another thing his wife had become accustomed to because of him.

Sighing, he said,
Edward sighed, prompting Mrs. Johnson, oblivious to his internal conflict, to suggest cheerfully,

“You seem very tired. Why don’t you go down for breakfast? Today, we have tomato dishes that are good for hangovers.”

The two-person breakfast setting, now a norm in the Allen mansion, reflected the changes in their routine. The couple now regularly had breakfast together, and Edward’s return from work had become more predictable.

“I suppose so. I’ll be down shortly; please have it ready.”

“Understood,” Mrs. Johnson replied with a warm smile, closing the door behind her.

Despite Edward’s casual attire, he was just heading to the research lab. As he entered the dining room, Louisa was already there.

“Slept well?”

“Absolutely,” he responded, sitting down. Glancing at the breakfast, he joked, “Since when have we been running a tomato plantation?”

The table was laden with tomato-based dishes: tomato preserves, Caprese salad, thick tomato slices in sandwiches with lettuce and ham, fusilli with meat sauce, and tomato juice.

Louisa, sipping her tomato juice, chuckled, “Not too long ago. We set up a small garden in the backyard. Surprised you didn’t notice.”

“Really?”

“Yes, about 5 yards of tomatoes, and some asparagus and herbs too…”

Noting his reaction, she asked, “Did it bother you? I thought you were okay with it.”

“No, it’s not that,” he reassured her, not wanting to dampen her spirits.

He was astonished to learn she had actually been farming. “So, when did you learn to garden?”

“Back when I was with the Hill family. Remember Max, their gardener?”

As Edward listened attentively, Louisa excitedly shared her experience of helping Max and bringing home fresh produce.

Realizing this was another thing she adapted to for him, Edward mused,

“Shouldn’t have done that. It’s not about having a garden; it’s about you digging and toiling in the soil. You are―”

He wanted to express his concern but stopped, fearing it might exhaust her further, especially since she’d already mentioned divorce due to hardships caused by him.

Louisa, sensing the change in mood, apologized, “Edward, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I spoke out of turn.”

He forcefully ate the tomatoes, despite Louisa’s protests, and stood up, “I’ll be going now. You’re resuming your break from today, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Take it easy. Find something you’d like to do, like a play, opera, or even Mrs. Brides’ reading club.”

Reading club.

Louisa just smiled at his suggestion.

“Sorry about earlier.”

“It’s okay. Take care.”

She waved as he looked back one last time before leaving.

As the door closed, Louisa let out a deep breath. Edward’s reaction indicated she had again crossed his line.

Perhaps her gardening displeased him. He never liked her engaging in activities under the guise of charity. Seemingly, her hobby didn’t appeal to him either.

‘What does he think I should be doing?’

It probably didn’t matter now.

She forced a smile, thinking it might eventually lead to feeling alright.

Mrs. Johnson entered to clear the table, humming and clattering dishes.

The silence in the dining room made Louisa feel awkward being alone in the house again.

The fear crept in. Before, she thought a divorce wouldn’t change much. But now, the void Edward left felt immense.

‘What if I end up clinging to him, begging him just to stay by my side, without love?’

‘No, that kind of relationship, based on dependency, is doomed.’

She wrapped her arms around herself, realizing that even if Edward temporarily spent more time with her, it would end once he immersed himself back in his research.

He was a man atoning through success, and she, a woman unable to let go of love.

Unless this fundamental difference changed, they would remain parallel, never intersecting. Clinging to him now would only delay the inevitable pain.
‘I can’t go on like this. Pull yourself together, Louisa.’

She consoled herself.