The rain poured as I rode my scooter with my daughter on the back, delivering a package of condoms. The destination? My ex-husband’s house. We’d been divorced for seven years.
A woman, barely covered in a flimsy bathrobe, peeked out from behind Julian Hayes.
He looked embarrassed, quickly pushing her head back inside.
“It’s pouring outside, Elara. Camilla couldn’t possibly leave in this weather,” he mumbled, trying to explain.
I ignored him, turning to leave immediately.
Julian’s face darkened. He called out, “That’s it? You have nothing to say?”
I simply said, “Don’t forget to rate your delivery.”
The smile on his lips instantly froze.
He grabbed my wrist tightly.
“It’s been seven years. Don’t you have anything you want to ask me? Like, about me and Camilla…”
My next delivery was due to be late in ten minutes.
“No.”
Julian was desperate to see a flicker of jealousy on my face.
He frantically snatched the package bag. Several condoms and some almost transparent lingerie tumbled out.
Unlike seven years ago when he was so brazen, Julian fumbled to pick them up, his face flushing crimson.
“Listen, Elara, I can explain. Camilla bought these, the store assistant must have made a mistake.”
But I just listened quietly until he finished.
“My delivery is going to be late. If there’s nothing else, I have other customers waiting.”
A rare crack appeared in his composure.
His lips moved, pale and trembling. But in the end, he said nothing.
Only then did he speak, “It’s still raining heavily outside. Are you going to be okay alone?”
I looked at him, confused and baffled.
Julian, who had never cared about such details, was now suddenly pretending to be concerned?
“Mom! Why aren’t you coming down yet? The delivery’s going to be late!”
My daughter, wearing her helmet, came pattering down from upstairs, her innocent little face peeking out.
Julian’s eyes widened, shock evident on his face as he looked from me to my daughter, then back again.
“You’re married? And you have a daughter?”
Let him misunderstand.
I hugged my daughter, calmly replying, “Yeah.”
The color drained from Julian’s face, as if he couldn’t process this new reality.
When he finally snapped out of it, my daughter and I were already heading downstairs.
Julian followed, his eyes quickly turning red as he looked at my worn-out electric scooter.
“How have you been all these years? Where’s your husband? How can he let you and your child deliver food in this weather?”
“How can you be so careless with your safety? This broken-down scooter, it’s completely unsafe.”
“Your husband is an absolute jerk.”
“Forget it, stop delivering. I’ll find you another job…”
He was suddenly playing the doting, responsible family man, a role he’d never genuinely embraced.
If he knew whose child Hazel really was, he would chase me relentlessly.
“But Julian. We’re divorced. Seven years ago.”
The pounding rain suddenly felt like a bucket of ice water dumped over Julian.
“Julian…” Camilla’s saccharine voice floated from the room inside. “My robe belt is tangled. Can you help me with it?”
Julian’s expression froze.
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