Chapter 78

"Emily..." Michael Stone clenched the stack of bills, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously.

Emily Johnson quickly pushed the money back into his hands. "I still have savings. You keep this for your business. Who knows if the policies have loosened yet?"

The coastal city had indeed opened up. Michael planned another trip before New Year's—festive seasons always meant good sales.

But the current situation unsettled him. His wife was earning her own money while refusing his support due to her "amnesia," leaving him grasping at sand slipping through his fingers.

"Keep it. I'm going to study." Before he could react, Emily hurried into their bedroom and slammed the door.

Michael stared at the closed door, the joy of their financial windfall evaporating instantly.

Since losing her memory, Emily hadn't argued or complained—she just looked at him like he was a stranger. That indifference cut deeper than any quarrel.

He raked a hand through his hair in frustration. Last night, he should've swallowed his pride and stayed in the master bedroom. Now he'd been banished to the children's room.

Turning, he pushed open the nursery door. His two boys lay on their stomachs poring over picture books—treasures from Michael's last business trip. Though they couldn't read most words, the illustrations kept them entertained for hours.

"Daddy?" Tommy tilted his head. "Why aren't you in your room?"

The question caught Michael off guard. Should he admit their mother had kicked him out? The boys had been asleep when he moved in last night, and he'd risen before them this morning—so far, they remained oblivious to their father's predicament.

"Can you understand the story?" he deflected awkwardly.

David held up his book. "Daddy, there are too many words we don't know."

"Mom's teaching us the Three Character Classic!" Tommy kicked his feet excitedly. "Men at their birth... Mom hasn't taught us the rest yet."

Michael ruffled their hair. "Such clever boys." The praise tasted bittersweet. City children their age attended kindergarten, but the village school only accepted seven-year-olds.

Kicking off his shoes, he climbed onto the bed and gathered his sons against him. "Come, let Daddy tell you a story."

Through the thin walls, Emily faintly heard her husband's deep voice. Setting down her textbook, she propped her chin on her hand, lost in thought.

How long could she maintain this amnesia charade? What if Michael insisted on returning to their bed tonight? Could she keep her distance sharing blankets with him?

Frustrated, she tugged at her hair. Nine months remained until college entrance exams—how would she survive this arrangement?