You More than Anything in the World (Arissa)

Oscar suddenly stood up. Apprehensively, Amelia asked, “Mr. Clinton, are you leaving?”

Oscar walked over. He leaned over Amelia, almost pinning her onto the bed. The tips of their noses

brushed against each other.

Enthralled, Amelia had no way of reining in her wildly beating heart. Her eyes darted from side to side,

desperately avoiding Oscar’s intent gaze.

“What do you feel like eating? I’ll go and get it,” he said.

That was the last thing Amelia had expected to hear from Oscar at that moment.

“Now that you’re having a baby, you should eat a little more than usual. Tell me what you’re craving; I’ll

buy it for you.” Oscar’s cool tone belied his apparent discomfort.

Amelia couldn’t believe her ears. This was Oscar’s first time showing concern for her baby.

“Mr. Clinton, are you actually concerned about me?” Amelia asked in disbelief.

“Enough of that. Tell me, quickly, what you want to eat,” Oscar insisted.

Amelia found the situation hilarious. Oscar seemed a lot more human now in comparison to the guarded,

defensive man he usually was.

“Since you’ve offered, I can’t possibly say no. All right then. On account of Mr. Clinton’s generosity, I’d

like to order a pasta arrabbiata, stewed beef, and mango sorbet to top it all off… I’m spoilt for choice!

How can I decide?” Amelia asked in exaggerated despair.

Seeing that Oscar had let her off the hook for the matter with the photographs, the sudden feeling of

liberation dared Amelia to joke with Oscar, something she seldom did.

Oscar only glared at her. “Amelia, don’t go overboard.”

“Don’t be so petty, Mr. Clinton. Can’t you even bear to buy these for me?” Amelia wheedled, pouting.

Oscar realized that he rather liked seeing this feminine side of Amelia.

“Wait and see; I’ll buy it all for you. Anything else?” he queried.

“I want you. Can I have that?” Amelia asked playfully.

Oscar’s face once again assumed a sober look. “You’re only allowed to say such things to me in the

future. I forbid you from flirting with any other man like that.”

Flirting?

Amelia thought she had merely been casually teasing Oscar. She was rather distressed that it had been

seen as flirtatious. It seemed that everyone perceived things rather differently indeed.

“Since you object, Mr. Clinton, I won’t say things like that anymore,” Amelia said, sulking.

Oscar grit his teeth in frustration. “You…”

Amelia held her belly and opened her eyes wide, beseeching Oscar in a cutesy tone, “Mr. Clinton, I’m

hungry.”

“All right, hang on. I’ll go and buy it for you now,” Oscar replied as he headed towards the door.

“Mr. Clinton,” Amelia’s cry stopped Oscar in his tracks.

Turning around, he asked, “What is it?”

“Mr. Clinton, I’m bored. I didn’t bring my phone with me to the hospital. Can I borrow yours to play with?”

Amelia pleaded.

Oscar hesitated for a moment, then handed his phone to Amelia. “The password’s your birthdate.”

Surprised, Amelia looked at him. She refused to believe that that was his chosen password.

Oscar cleared his throat awkwardly, then said, “There are a couple of games inside. You can take a look

if you’re bored. I’ll be off, then.” He turned quickly on his heels and left the room.

Amelia was still looking at his phone in shock. She muttered to herself, “Oscar, if you truly didn’t care for

me, then why did you use my birthdate as your password? Don’t you know what kind of hope that raises

in me? What if I can’t bear to let you go when it’s time for the divorce?”

Amelia’s emotions were in complete turmoil. On the one hand, she didn’t want to get a divorce. On the

other, Amelia was afraid that they eventually would, and Oscar would take her baby away regardless of

what he had promised her.

Oscar, I think I’ve really fallen for you. If I could, I would want to depend on you for the rest of my life. I

want a real relationship with you, not just a transactional one.

Amelia gingerly looked at Oscar’s phone, then opened his photo album. As she scrolled through it, she

realized to her surprise that it contained many photos of her, most of them taken when she was sleeping.

In a few, a single blanket covered her bare body; in others, she had fallen asleep fully clothed. The

photos of Amelia numbered more than a thousand in sheer variety. It was completely unlike the Oscar

she knew to have so many photos of Amelia.

Amelia took to examining them. Oscar had taken some from behind her as she walked ahead. Amelia

could barely even recall when these moments had taken place, let alone presented any opportunities in

which Oscar had taken such flattering photographs of her.

Amelia’s eyes grew moist. She’d always believed that Oscar liked her solely for her body. If he had

absolutely no other feelings for her, however, then what could explain this stash of Amelia’s photos?

Amelia was willing to bet anything she had that a man who had no affection whatsoever for her would not

possess so many photos of her. It was like a carefully curated gallery of art.

As Amelia went through each photo, she realized with a start that there were barely ten photos of

Cassie. Besides a few snapshots of scenery scattered here and there, the rest of Oscar’s photo album

was practically a shrine to Amelia.

Amelia felt incredibly perturbed. As she weighed Oscar’s phone in her hand, she mumbled, “Oscar, all

the photos you have are of me. Doesn’t that mean that you don’t hate me too much? Why can’t we

spend the rest of our lives together, then?

Just then, an incoming call jolted Amelia out of her brief reverie.

Cassie’s name flashed across the screen. Upon seeing it, Amelia’s heart immediately plummeted.

She hesitated for a while, then picked up. Cassie’s excited chatter floated across the line. “Oz, I went for

a check-up with your secretary today. The doctor said that the baby’s very healthy.” A note of betrayal

crept into her voice. “You promised that you’d come with me, but you’re always so occupied with work! I

said that I’d be a model wife so I won’t blame you this time. Oz, the baby and I both miss you so much!

Will you be coming over tonight?”

Amelia’s hand clutched the blanket. She bit her lip with such fury that it almost drew blood. With what

strength she could muster, Amelia said evenly, “Sorry, Ms. Yard, it’s Amelia. Oz, as you call him, has

gone out to buy food for me. I’m afraid he just missed your entire speech.”

Cassie was silent for a moment. Then she retorted, “Why are you answering my call, Amelia? Where’s

Oz?”

“He went to buy food for me,” Amelia answered sweetly.

“Amelia, you have no shame at all! After your blatant cheating affair at your company, which was even

documented in a few photographs, how can you be so shameless as to stay with Oz?” Cassie said

disdainfully.

Amelia paled. Shakily, she asked, “How did you know about the photos?”

Cassie sniggered. “How do you think I got to know about it? Of course, Oz was the one who told me. Oz

said you are, by far, the most filthy and disgusting woman he’s met. It’s not for me to judge a gold-digger,

but going for two men at the same time? That’s remarkably greedy, even by your standards.”

Amelia grew even paler. Her grip on the blanket tightened. “Ms. Yard, I don’t think it’s your place to

comment on the kind of woman I am. Even if I’m cheating on Oscar, it’s up to him to decide if he wants to

divorce me. You’re nothing more than an outsider.”

Cassie snickered. Keep lying to yourself, Amelia. I’ll be Oz’s wife soon. No matter what, you’re the one

who’ll eventually be the outsider here.”

Despite herself, Amelia stood her ground valiantly. “So what? At least I’m still Oscar’s wife now. You’re

the mistress he’s ashamed of. When word gets out, I don’t think the Yards will be too proud of you.”

Cassie snorted and said, “Don’t be too pleased with yourself either, Amelia. Do you know what Oscar

told me this morning? He said that you were filthy and made him sick, and he hasn’t divorced you only

because you’re pregnant. He didn’t think you’d be bold enough to have an affair in your condition.

Cheating was a real low move from you.”

Amelia clenched her jaw. “Ms. Yard, if you have nothing else to say to me, I’ll be hanging up.”

Without waiting for a reply, Amelia immediately ended the call.

When Oscar returned with a few bags full of food, Amelia was facing away from the door with the blanket

over her. He didn’t know if she was asleep.

Still holding on to his bags, Oscar approached Amelia only to be greeted by her tear-stained face. Taken

aback, Oscar hurriedly set down his bags and pulled a chair over. He sat down and reached over to dab

the tears from her cheeks. “Why are you crying?” he asked tenderly.

Amelia sat up, brushing aside Oscar’s gesture of intimacy. She then asked, “Mr. Clinton, have you

bought the food yet? I’m hungry.”

Oscar frowned, feeling as if a gulf had once again opened between himself and Amelia. However, he

pushed aside the nagging feeling that something was amiss and starting laying out the food on the table.

“Everything you listed is right here. Eat up.”

Amelia picked up a spoon and focused entirely on the spread that lay before her. She refused to even

glance at Oscar, much less playfully feed him as she used to do.

The frown deepened on Oscar’s brow. Looking at Amelia, he announced, “I’m hungry.”

Amelia raised her head and looked at him questioningly. “You’re hungry too? There’s another set of

utensils here. Help yourself.”

Oscar stared at her. He asked in slight frustration, “Aren’t you going to feed me?”

If this had happened before that fateful conversation with Cassie, Amelia would have immediately played

along with the greatest zest. However, Amelia wasn’t in the mood at present. She only replied dully,

“Please help yourself, Mr. Clinton.”

Oscar looked at her, probing. “Are you upset?”

Amelia’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m perfectly happy, Mr. Clinton.”

Oscar fumed. “Don’t smile if you don’t want to. You look hideous.”

The smile on Amelia’s face vanished. She resumed eating but found that she had lost her appetite

completely.

Oscar put down his utensils. “What in the world is wrong with you?”

Wordlessly, Amelia brought another spoonful of rice to her mouth. However, Oscar stopped her by

grabbing her wrist. “Don’t eat if you don’t want to,” he said roughly.

Amelia looked at him in bewilderment. Her eyes slowly brimmed with tears. They spilled over, seemingly

without her realizing.

Ever since she had gotten pregnant, Amelia felt as if she had become a lot weaker. She cried a lot more,

and often.

Oscar’s heart was wrung at this sight. He reached forward and wiped her tears, then took her into his

arms all at once. In a low voice, he asked, “Why are you crying?”

Amelia wrapped her arms tightly around Oscar’s waist. At that moment, Oscar seemed to be her only

refuge in the world. Amelia permitted her sorrow to course unrestrained through her, emerging as tears

that ran onto Oscar’s shirt.

After letting Amelia cry for a minute or so, Oscar turned her to face him. Once again, he wiped away the

tears on her face and repeated, “Why are you crying?”

Amelia looked at him with swollen eyes. “Mr. Clinton, do you really think of me as a filthy woman?”

Oscar’s eyes grew dark. He tilted her jaw, forcing Amelia to look him in the eye while demanding, “Did

anyone say anything of that sort to you?”

Amelia looked away and mumbled, “No.”

“Don’t you lie to me.”

Amelia shook her head, once again directing her interest towards the food. “Mr. Clinton, let’s eat. I’m

hungry.”

Oscar’s eyes remained steadfastly fixed on Amelia.