1: 1

Because my husband had a bad stomach, for seven years I never once missed making him a homemade lunch with my own hands.

That day I came in the rain to bring it, and as always he only sent his assistant down to take it.

The rain outside came down harder and harder. I stood there a while. He didn't come down with an umbrella, and he didn't message to ask how I'd get home.

I waited out the rain in the convenience store by the entrance, bored, scrolling a video feed, and happened to land on a local influencer.

On the screen, a girl was pouting sweetly at a beautiful, generous lunch box in front of her.

“My future mother-in-law's love is a little too salty today, what do I do?”

Looking at those familiar dishes, that familiar lunch box, even the mouthwash I'd thoughtfully tucked inside, something in my chest went tight.

The next second a message popped up. It was my husband.

“Too salty today. Use less salt next time.”

I looked out at the pouring rain, and for some reason my eyes went wet too.

In my heart I answered quietly:

“It's fine. There won't be a next time.”

The words in that message box made my heart shudder.

I scrolled back through the sparse chat history with Richard Mason.

“Don't bring mango today, I'm allergic to mango.”

“The shrimp was good today. Make another portion tomorrow.”

“Make sweet and sour ribs tomorrow.”

“The food was cold today. Bring it faster next time.”

....

Every message was short and cold, as if he were giving orders to a housekeeper.

I wiped the corner of my eye and gave a bitter little laugh.

Laughing at my own foolishness. There had been signs all along, and I'd forced myself to believe otherwise, refusing to doubt, refusing to suspect.

Richard was never allergic to mango before. When did he suddenly become allergic?

Richard never liked sweet and sour food. When did he suddenly start ordering sweet and sour ribs?

Every last thing was telling me the same truth.

All those times I'd racked my brain learning new dishes for him, all those times I'd run through pouring rain just to get his food to him on time.

All of it had really been for someone else.

I couldn't stop myself from scrolling through the girl's account, and it turned out the account went back four years.

In the first video from four years ago, the girl was still a fresh college student.

That day she casually tossed a gift box into the trash, with the caption:

“Do rich guys really chase girls in such a corny way these days? I'm not that kind of gold digger.“

From the first video to the ninety-ninth, the gift boxes the girl received grew more and more expensive, some even reaching seven figures.

Her clothes grew more and more refined too, and the smile on her face grew more and more confident.

Within a mere half year she'd become a director, drawing a wave of envy in the comments.

I had no heart left to scroll the rest. My heart had frozen into frost.

I lifted my stiff hand and called Richard.

It took a long time for him to pick up, and his tone was full of impatience.

“Didn't I say not to call me after work hours?”

I opened my mouth, my throat aching and dry.

“Richard, the rain's too heavy out here. Can you come take me home?”

I asked it nervously, holding on to one last shred of hope.

But before Richard could answer, a girl's coy voice suddenly rang out on the other end:

“Aww, come here, babe. Baby ate too much and my tummy hurts.”

My heart shuddered, and the other end had already gone to a busy signal.

The last little candle flame in my heart went out.

I sat there dazed for a while, then started to laugh, until even the passersby looked at me like I was crazy.

A moment later, my phone buzzed again.

It was a twenty-dollar transfer from Richard.

“Cab fare.“

2: 2

I didn't take the twenty dollars. I walked home instead.

Set against how generous he was with other women, those twenty dollars felt like a handout tossed my way.

But the moment I got home, Richard laid into me before I could even speak.

"May, aren't you something now, coming home this late!"

"Do you have any idea? I got back and there wasn't even a cup of tea waiting, not even my bath drawn!"

His grip on my wrist hurt. I just stood there and let the man rant.

Only when Richard stopped did I say, coldly,

"Richard, was I born to do all this for you?"

The anger on his face gave way to surprise, then something almost like disbelief as he looked at me.

"You're a housewife. Isn't this exactly what you're supposed to do?"

Something in me caught fire. A whole day of hurt and exhaustion broke loose at once. I threw his hand off hard and snapped,

"Richard, did I choose to stay home?"

"The reason I was forced to stay here, do you really not know?"

He flinched away from my stare on instinct.

That ugly stretch of the past sat between us like a scar. If I never brought it up, he'd probably have forgotten it long ago.

After a moment, Richard softened his voice and tried to pull me into his arms, coaxing me.

"May, have you just been cooped up too long?"

"Tell you what. I'll send you two hundred dollars, you go out and have some fun, all right?"

As he said it, the man actually pulled two bills from his wallet, wearing a look of pure indulgence.

"May, don't scrimp on my account. Eat what you want, spend what you want."

"Just don't be so difficult next time, okay?"

I suddenly remembered that girl's first video, tossing a bracelet worth a few hundred thousand into the trash like it was nothing, and yet saying Richard's love was too cheap.

So how much was Richard's love for me worth?

That night, unsettled from the day, I fell into the nightmare again.

In the dream, they forced liquor into me and stripped off my clothes.

Those men pinned me down and said if I spent one night with them, the Mason project would go smoothly, all of it.

I cried and screamed and fought, and then jerked awake out of the nightmare.

The fear still clinging to me, I curled into Richard's arms out of habit. The man patted my back once, offhand, then pushed me off and sat up.

"I've got a meeting tomorrow. Go sleep in the guest room."

Richard left, and I hugged my pillow and cried without a sound.

Back when I was rescued, he'd held me and said it over and over,

"Don't be scared, May. I'll protect you my whole life. I won't let anyone hurt you again."

Because of what happened, I later fell into severe depression and had to stay home.

And it was Richard who held me then and promised, solemnly,

"May, from now on you just stay home and take it easy. Your husband will earn the money and take care of you. Don't worry, even if you do nothing at all, just being alive is enough."

I wrapped my arms around my own shoulders and laughed at myself.

Right. What he called taking care of me was buying out my time for a few thousand dollars, so I could slave for him.

And then bankroll another woman.

3: 3

The next morning, I didn't head out early to the market for the freshest vegetables like I always did, and I didn't rush to have Richard's meal ready the moment the clock struck the usual hour.

Instead, I went to a law firm and asked the lawyer straight out for a set of divorce papers.

Then I took my resume and interviewed at a few companies.

But I had barely stepped out of the last one when Richard called.

"May, do you have too much time on your hands? Do you have any idea how much you're embarrassing me? My wife, going out to look for work, taking orders from someone else?"

"Be a good girl and go home and cook. Make sweet-and-sour fish tonight!"

He hung up before I could get a word in.

Not long after, every company I'd interviewed with called back, one after another, apologizing and gently informing me that I hadn't made the cut.

I curled my fingers, nails digging into my palm.

A video notification popped up on my phone.

It was that girl.

"I've got wonderful news to share with all of you. I'm pregnant!"

"The baby's daddy is over the moon. I just said I wanted sweet-and-sour fish, and he called his mother right away and had her make it for me!"

"I feel like the happiest woman in the world right now!"

The girl cradled her belly, all smiles, those big eyes gazing smugly into the camera, as if she were flaunting it at someone.

My heart lurched.

The comments were nothing but blessings, some of them even begging her for tips on how to land a life like that.

So Richard had clipped my wings, and set another woman up in the palace of happiness instead. Was that it?

I typed a single line into the comment section.

"The happiness of knowingly being the other woman?"

Then I blocked her. I didn't want to look at something that filthy anymore.

But half an hour later, Richard tracked me down and dragged me into his car.

Inside, his face was dark.

"May, do you have any idea? Because of your rumor-mongering, Clara's been so hounded online she's ready to jump off a building!"

I froze for a second, then let out a cold laugh.

"What rumor did I spread? Richard, she's pregnant. With your child. Isn't she?"

A brief silence filled the car.

After a moment, Richard tugged irritably at his tie.

"She's just a girl barely in her twenties. Why do you have to go after her like this?"

"Besides, her being pregnant is a good thing for you too, isn't it? The only reason I didn't tell you was for your sake. I wanted it to be a surprise."

"You went through IVF all those times and never conceived. What's wrong with having a child who'll call you Mom someday? My marriage certificate has only your name on it, after all!"

Richard's shameless words almost made me laugh out of sheer anger. I stared at him, steady and unblinking, as if I were meeting this man for the very first time.

To grant Richard his wish of becoming a father, I'd done IVF over a hundred times. My stomach was still covered with countless bruises from the needles they'd used to draw out the eggs.

That pain went straight into the bone. Even now, remembering it made my scalp crawl.

And yet here he was, saying so lightly that having a child with another woman was for my own good?

Richard paid no attention to how I felt. His tone turned hard.

"In a bit, you're going to apologize to Clara. Tell her you spread the rumor out of jealousy."

I didn't answer. But I didn't even get the right to refuse before Richard yanked me out of the car.

At the edge of the rooftop, Clara's skirt fluttered in the wind, her whole body swaying as if she might topple over any second.

The moment he saw it, Richard's eyes went red with panic. He pulled me a step forward and shouted.

"Clara, come down! I've brought the one who started the rumors about you. I'll make her apologize to you right now!"

I stood there rigid, refusing to say a word.

Clara's tears came harder, and she looked at Richard with a pitiful, wronged expression.

"Richard, am I really the other woman?"

"Because if I am, then I don't want to live anymore!"

At that, Richard's brows knit tight, and he said coldly, right against my ear,

"May, apologize!"

"Otherwise, I won't mind releasing those photos from back then!"