In the third year of our marriage, my wife’s ex-boyfriend of eight years suddenly posted a picture on social media showing off a multi-million-dollar wedding house. His caption read:

“Wow, got myself a huge villa, I’m the master of charming women!”

I stared in shock at the picture, which showed my wife swiping her card at a sales office, and left a single comment: "?"

A second later, my wife called to scold me.

“I was just fulfilling a promise I made to him back when we were dating, buying him a house. Why are you getting mad at him?”

“What? Are you really going to be so vicious as to force me to break my word?”

That evening, her ex showed off another lavish post, this time flaunting a renovation bill worth hundreds of thousands. I knew it was a gift from my wife to please him.

But by then, I no longer cared.

When my wife, Lily Devon, got home, I was taking Paroxetine, medication for depression.

Ever since John Clapton reappeared, this suffocating marriage had pushed me from a healthy state into moderate depression.

Lily came over, grabbed my pills, and threw them in the trash. "Why do you start taking your meds the second I come home? Stop acting pitiful around me, will you?" she said, tossing a bouquet in front of me. "This is from John."

"I asked him what it'd take for him to forgive you, and he was kind enough to say you just need to apologize, and he'll let it go."

I looked at the half-wilted flowers on the table. When I smelled them closely, I could sense the foul odor of rotting stems. Three days ago, John had posted this bouquet, captioning it with, [Ah, flowers and a beautiful woman, what a happy afternoon.]

The painful memories came rushing back. I picked up a fruit knife to peel an apple, trying to distract myself.

"I don't want anything from him. It's dirty."

Lily frowned and said, annoyed, "Why are you acting so high and mighty? He gave you a gift, and you can't even apologize to him? Will it kill you?"

I did not move.

"Don't be so ungrateful. You were the one in the wrong first, and John has been generous enough to make peace!" she said, kicking the dining table in frustration.

Her kick was so strong that it knocked the table over, and I fell to the ground with it.

Unfortunately, the fruit knife went right into my palm. Blood gushed out, quickly staining my white t-shirt as I trembled with pain.

Lily panicked. "I'm taking you to the hospital."

I did not resist and followed her to the basement. Once inside the car, I noticed the front passenger seat had been changed.

This was a brand-new, customized black leather seat with a biker style. Originally, Lily's car interior had been all pink. Clearly, someone had made this change not too long ago.

"You know I dated him for eight years, right? Back then, I promised him that I'd fulfill any requests he made, even now." Lily glanced at me warningly. "He wanted a new seat, it's not a big deal. What's the matter? Are you going to throw a fit over something so small again?"

I just leaned back, fastened my seatbelt, and said, "No, this seat is pretty cool."

Lily seemed a bit surprised. "You don't want me to replace it?"

I pressed my lips together. In the past, whenever John deliberately left traces of himself in Lily's life, I would throw his things out.

At this point? I did not care about anything anymore.

"Just get to the hospital. My hand hurts," I said casually.

20 minutes later, as we neared the hospital, Lily's phone rang.

"What is it?" she asked.

From the other end, John's voice came, intentionally soft and pleading, "The villa feels so empty. Living alone just seems to lack something. I can't sleep. It's unbearable."

"Wait for me," said Lily, her brows furrowed with worry. "Watch some TV, I'll be there in twenty minutes."

Lily stepped hard on the gas, and three minutes later, she abruptly hit the brakes at the hospital entrance.

I was curled up in the seat, suddenly overwhelmed with physical symptoms, shortness of breath, sweating, trembling hands, dizzy, and nauseousness.

"Lily," I called out to her. "I don't feel well. Help me inside, I can't walk."

Lily turned to me, clearly impatient. "Are you faking your illness again? Of all times to be in pain, it's now, right when John calls? What is he, a knife that's cutting you down?"

She yanked open the passenger door, dragged me out of the car, and drove away without a second glance.

I crouched on the ground, my body shaking uncontrollably, paralyzed by the physical symptoms. The rain poured down, soaking me and the wound in my palm within seconds. I curled up in pain, lips turning white, watching cars rush by.

Thankfully, a kind stranger noticed something was wrong and came to help, saving me from further danger.

Half an hour later, when I finally calmed down, I received shocking news.

"Mr. Thompson, you have a malignant stomach tumor. We recommend immediate surgery."

"When is the earliest I can have the operation?"

"Tomorrow."

After getting my wound bandaged, I went home to change into dry clothes. Lily arrived just as I lay down on the bed. She glared at me and kicked the chair next to the bed.

"Didn't I tell you to iron my dress as soon as you got home? What's the problem now? Just because I didn't hold your hand at the hospital, you're making a scene?

"Why are you so annoying? Can't you act your age for once?"

I paused towel-drying my hair and smiled mockingly.

Why did I not iron her dress, she asked?

In the past, I would have ironed the dresses she planned to wear each day the night before. However, the moment she dragged me out of the car earlier, my body was just starting to recover, and I immediately muted her on my phone.

I blinked and found a random excuse.

"My hand hurts. I couldn't use my phone to check messages."

Lily glanced at my bandaged right hand, a strange expression flickering in her eyes. She tossed a tube of ointment in front of me. "This is to stop the bleeding. The doctor said this ointment is effective."

I picked up the ointment and looked at it, curling my lip.

Unbelievable. It was expired medicine.

In mere minutes, Lily's dissatisfied voice echoed in my ears.

"John is kind-hearted, not petty and malicious like you. He knew you were injured and specially bought this ointment for me to give to you."

"No need, tell him to use it himself," I said, tossing the ointment onto the table, where it slid off and landed in the trash.

Lily stood up and glared daggers at me. "What the hell is wrong with you again? John bought this from the pharmacy just for you, and you throw it in the garbage?

"I know you're mad. Is it just because I bought a house for John today? But it's my money, and I can spend it on whoever I want! You're the petty one. I haven't even taken it out on you yet!"

She went on a tirade, her words making my head spin, leaving me breathless.

"I'm not angry. Can you give me a moment to catch my breath..."

"Faking your illness again?" Lily interrupted, impatiently smacking me on the head. "You're not depressed. You're just sick in the head. Your brain is damaged!

"Not only is your brain messed up, but you're also vicious!"

Since John had come back, Lily started accusing me of being cruel at every turn. She said I was forcing her to be heartless and ungrateful.

I used to patiently explain to her that I cared about John because I wanted her to favor me. At this point, if she wanted to be a woman of promise and integrity, let her be.

I said flatly, "Yeah, I'm vicious. Could you leave me alone to rest?"

Lily was taken aback for a second, then stormed out, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

I lay on my side, playing soft music to calm myself. Unfortunately, my depression hit again, causing my heart to pound and spasm uncontrollably.

From the living room, I could hear Lily's sweet voice comforting John over the phone, her laughter clear and tender.

Just as I was about to drift off, I heard the bedroom door open. Lily slipped into bed, sliding under the covers to embrace me from behind.

"It's Saturday, time for our weekly check," she whispered.

Ever since John came back, I had suspected they were having an affair. To prove her loyalty, Lily had scheduled these weekly sessions, saying I could inspect her however I wanted. I blocked her hand with mine.

"I'm too tired today. Let's skip to next week."

Lily froze, then exhaled in relief. "Honestly, I didn't want to do it either. If it weren't for my parents being so fond of you, do you think I'd even touch you?"

She got up abruptly and slammed the door on her way out. I locked the bedroom door and packed what I needed for surgery the next day.

At the same time, I messaged my lawyer to prepare the divorce papers.

Lily disappeared for five days straight, but I saw her next on John's social media. His caption read, [Seventeen years of knowing each other, eight years in love, and now closer than lovers.]

The picture was from a birthday party. John had his arm around Lily, wearing a brand-new luxury watch.

Looking closely, I noticed it was identical to the one I had ordered months ago. Two weeks ago, Lily had gone to pick up the watch for me at the store but never followed through.

I chuckled sarcastically and quietly liked the post.

Seconds later, Lily called me.

"Come downstairs in half an hour. I'm taking you to a party. Oh, and this is your reward for behaving well lately."

I was about to decline, but she hung up immediately. Knowing the divorce process had to move along smoothly, I took a cab home from the hospital.

In the car, Lily started talking about celebrating John's birthday.

"Don't be upset. Back when we were dating, I promised him I'd celebrate his birthday every year if he wanted me to.

"Frankly, I don't even have to explain this to you. This is my private life."

I nodded calmly. "I'm not upset. Celebrating his birthday is the right thing to do."

Lily's expression shifted, her eyes betraying a complicated emotion.

When we arrived, I learned it was actually her friend Lomi's celebration party, held on a yacht. Oddly, John was not there.

"Mr. Thompson, it's partly thanks to you I can throw this party today," said Lomi Meyers, clinking her champagne glass against mine.

It was a compliment, but also true.

Back then, for Lily's sake, I had helped Lomi make some connections.

I poured myself a cup of tea. "Congratulations. I haven't been feeling well, so I'll toast with tea instead of alcohol."

Lomi's smile did not waver. "I heard you're taking over the overseas market soon. Congrats on that, too."

I smiled slightly.

Lily walked up behind me with a glass of wine, her expression changing when she heard Lomi's words.

"Going abroad? Why didn't you tell me? Who said you could go?"