Instead of celebrating our wedding anniversary, my wife celebrated her 28th anniversary of friendship with her childhood sweetheart at my very own resort. Even worse, she also posted a message on her Instagram story.

[We agreed to spend the 28th to 82nd year together!]

I couldn’t help but like the story and commented on it, saying that it should be the 99th anniversary.

After that, the Instagram story my wife just posted vanished within seconds.

She immediately called and yelled angily, “Why were you everywhere? We were just hanging out normally. Why were you being so sarcastic? It was just me with my friend!”

Soon enough, she boldly changed her Instagram profile photo to match her childhood sweetheart.

If this were in the past, I would retort by making a scene until she changed her Instagram profile photo back. However, I only sent her a calm message instead.

[$15,000 per hour. Don’t forget to transfer the money to me.]

——

It was already early morning when Monica Pesci returned home.

I was staying up all night as I was working on revising the company’s plan for her. As soon as I heard her voice, I looked to see a sarcastic sneer she made with her lips. It was the same expression that she would show every time she got upset in the past.

Back then, I would have treated her like someone I had to make up with and immediately put down my work to soothe her. But tonight, I only buried myself deeper in work without giving her attention even once.

After quite a while, she then got out of our bathroom with a basin of icy water and dumped it over my head before I could react.

“Fine! If you want to act cold, I’ll let you!”

“It seems that you can still enjoy your life after ruining other people’s moods. So, you just wanted money, right? I’d burn it for you, okay?”

“You need to remember that you were supported by me now, but you somehow dared to embarrass me all day long! How could you?”

Soon enough, there were sparks quickly thrown at the notebook I just wrote. I quickly moved back. Not long after that, my high-end laptop was quickly ruined. Just like our ridiculous marriage, it was unfortunately impossible to repair at all.

And then she tossed the basin aside and strutted off with her head held high like a triumphant rooster.

When I saw the lavish dinner and the glowing red candles on the table, I froze for a moment.

Yesterday had been our fifth wedding anniversary. In fact, Monica even had repeatedly reminded me not to forget it. But she had forgotten and held a party with her childhood sweetheart, Zane Anderson, at my resort to celebrate their 28th anniversary.

When she tried to explain with a gloomy expression, but she couldn’t even form words, I stood and headed into the bathroom.

As soon as I peeled off my wet clothes, she slammed the bathroom door shut.

“Michael, what did you mean? Who were you showing disdain to? Get out of here!”

“Wasn’t it just one anniversary I didn’t spend with you? We celebrated it every year. Would you die if I missed it this year?”

“Both Zane and I grew up together and we celebrated it for 28 years and you ruined it. But you didn’t feel guilty at all.”

Seeing that I couldn’t bathe in peace without her words stabbing me, I suddenly pulled open the bathroom door.

“Did you forget that you said you would celebrate our anniversary?”

I didn’t know whether Monica was startled by the sudden door opening or by my question, but she instantly went silent.

I rubbed my eyebrows as I was feeling really exhausted with her tirades.

“So, can I take a shower now?”

Her lips twitched, but she eventually said nothing.

Seeing that, I closed the bathroom door again before I carefully removed the soaked gauze from my abdomen. I couldn’t help but sigh at the pale scar revealed beneath.

After I took care of the wound and put on a waterproof patch, I finally sank into the warm water of the bathtub before letting out a quiet breath.

When I returned to the bedroom, Monica sat on the bed’s edge while she was still staring at me coldly.

“Since you’re finally done, let’s have a proper talk.”

She claimed she wanted to talk, but when she spoke, she had nothing but putting a blame on me.

“Yeah, I forgot the anniversary. But couldn’t you remind me? And you had to arrange it on the same day as Zane. Weren’t you deliberately embarrassing me?”

“I knew it. You actually thought there was something between him and me, so you had to compete with him, right?”

“Think about it yourself, wasn’t that too childish?”

As she spoke, she unlocked her phone, sent me an envelope full of money and said in a condescending tone, “Fine, I’ll give you the fucking wedding anniversary today, so you’ll have some sense in the future.”

After that, she stood and left arrogantly. I picked up my phone and opened the envelope. It was only $1.50. In the past, I had never cared about the amount, only about the meaning behind that special number and I had even felt proud of it.

But now, such numbers felt unbearably glaring. She would transfer $150,000 to Zane, yet she was only willing to give me $1.50 as compensation. The difference between the numbers probably showed exactly where Zane and I stood in her heart.

When I woke up the next day, it was already noon by then. However, I could feel my head was throbbing like crazy while my mouth was unbearably dry. Instinctively, I lifted a shaky hand to my forehead when it burned with heat.

Immediately, I peeled away the gauze on my abdomen and saw redness with a streak of yellowish fluid seeping through. Clearly, the wound was infected.

After washing and changing into clean clothes, I planned to take a taxi to the hospital. But when I stepped into the dining room, Monica was already sitting there with her arms folded tightly across her chest, while her face was gloomy.

“You dare to get up now? Anyone who didn’t know better would think you were sleeping peacefully. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you?”

I had never been someone who liked to sleep in.

For the past five years, whether working or not, I had always woken at five in the morning, prepared a delicious breakfast and packed a lunchbox full of care for her.

She had grown so accustomed to my efforts that it never occurred to her I might be unwell on a morning like this.

However, since I didn’t have the strength to argue, I just grabbed my keys and walked straight toward the door.

Monica suddenly stood, strode toward me in a few quick steps and grabbed my arm.

“What do you mean by this? I specially prepared a whole table of food, but you’re just going to turn your back on me?”

I stumbled two steps, which caused my back to hit the closet with a dull thud. Pain shot through me, but at least it kept me from falling.

My gaze followed her words to the table, which had a spread of colorful dishes. Unfortunately, none of which I could eat.

“I don’t want to eat anymore, I … ”

I started weakly, but before finishing, her face became even more gloomy. She then dragged me back to the table, pressing me firmly into the chair.

“You’re a man. Don’t you feel ashamed acting like this?”

“I even burned my arm cooking this whole meal for you, yet you dare to waste my effort by saying you don’t want to eat anymore?”

Her tirade annoyed me so much that I picked up a potato that looked less spicy and forced it into my mouth with my cutlery.

“Is this fine now? I really need to go out.”

If I didn’t leave soon, I would have to wait another two hours at the hospital.

Monica sneered, stood abruptly and yanked the tablecloth.

“Whether you want to eat it or not, I should never have cooked for you!”

I could only watch helplessly as hot liquid spilled across my clothes. The only thing I could do was sigh before turning back to the bedroom to search for a clean set to change into. While I was changing, Monica then stormed in, kicking the door angrily.

Only to freeze when her eyes landed on my abdomen.

“That … it’s already been how many days, so why is it still bleeding?”

I looked down. The thick discharge mixed with blood had soaked the gauze, making it look like it was bleeding

“What do you mean by how many days? It’s only been three.”

Since I had been discharged, she hadn’t taken care of me for even a minute. Instead, she had been reminding me about the anniversary while constantly appearing in Zane’s circle of friends.

“Really, you can’t even say that you’re not feeling well? Are you mute?”

“Change your clothes. I’ll take you to the hospital.”

I was about to refuse, but she had already slammed the door shut.

If she had taken the initiative before, I would have been happy. I once loved her with every private moment with her once made me feel grateful. But now, being near her only made me feel suffocated. Strangely enough, being alone felt more comfortable.

When we got into the car, she placed a lunchbox on the passenger seat and ordered me to sit in the back. I didn’t argue, quietly obeyed as I sat on the back seat and pulled out my phone to book an outpatient appointment.

After exiting the app, my finger accidentally tapped into the circle of friends. Zane’s post was pinned at the very top.

[I woke up hungry, but suddenly wanted to eat the dishes you made.]

The photo showed several plates of stir-fried dishes, all smothered in peppers, with their original ingredients hard to identify. I thought of the overturned dishes earlier and could only laugh bitterly at myself. It wasn’t that they had forgotten I couldn’t eat them.

From the very beginning, the food hadn’t been prepared for me at all.

When I looked up, I realized the route Monica drove wasn’t toward the hospital.

I checked the time on my watch, irritation rising, then tapped on the back of her seat.

“If you’re busy, drop me off here. I’ll take a taxi.”

Monica frowned, her eyes still on the road.

“Why are you in such a rush? Zane hurt his hand. I’ll drop this meal off and come right down.”

By the time she finished talking, she had already parked at the entrance of Zane’s neighborhood.

To stop me from leaving, she locked the door with the car key.

The afternoon sun blazed fiercely, which turned the car into a sweltering box of heat. Sweat quickly streamed down my body, while the wound on my abdomen itched with sharp pain. I called Monica several times, but she cut me off every time.

She hadn’t come down for two hours.

My breaths grew shallow, with dizziness clouded my vision as dehydration set in.

I knew I couldn’t endure any longer. Desperation forced me to grab the safety hammer, shatter the car window and with the help of startled passersby, drag myself into a taxi headed for the hospital.

When the wound was cleaned again, the doctor frowned deeply, his voice sharp with disapproval.

“Didn’t I tell you not to let water touch the wound?”

I could only endure the sting of hydrogen peroxide as it bubbled against my torn flesh, followed by the fiery burn of iodine. I stayed silent, unable to spare words. By the time I returned home after the infusion, darkness had already fallen.

Monica hadn’t called me once.

The living room remained a mess, just as I had left it, not a single thing tidied. Frowning, I dragged my aching, hungry body that hadn’t touched food for all day long back to bed, lying down with my stomach twisting in discomfort.

As soon as I unlocked my phone, Zane’s newest post appeared at the top of my feed. Monica stood on his balcony, wearing his oversized shirt with her pale thighs visible beneath the hem, hanging his underwear out to dry.

I swiped away instantly, not wanting to see such an obvious display. Then, I opened the food delivery app instead. I ordered a simple chowder for myself. However, I hadn’t expected my food to arrive with Monica herself.

The delivery man called and as I stepped into the living room to collect the order, Monica hurled the takeaway bag at my face with her expression cold and unyielding.

“How dare you smash my car! You think you’ll die just because you wait a little longer? Do you even know how long it will take to repair it?”

I glanced down at the takeaway lying at my feet. The chowder was now inedible. My stomach, already fragile after surgery, couldn’t handle going without food for so long.

Even though Monica knew about this, she still deliberately pushed my body to its limits.

I let out a low, bitter laugh and stepped toward her slowly, each step deliberate.

“Do you want to try it then? To see if you’d survive locked in that car under that sun?”

“Why didn’t you answer the phone? I told you repeatedly you didn’t have to take me. If you were busy, I could have gone alone. But you insisted on driving me and then abandoned me there!”

Monica had never seen me speak to her like this. She stepped back twice, startled. Nevertheless, I pressed her more and more. Feeling that she couldn’t get away with it, her panic shifted to fury.

“What are you shouting for? You’re not dead, are you?”

She then shoved me hard with both hands, with her palm pressed directly into my wound.

Without further ado, it sent me dropping into a crouch, teeth clenched and sweat dripping onto the floor.

“Michael … what the hell are you doing? Trying to fool me? Don’t you fucking pretend with me!”

Her brows furrowed and just as she bent down to grab me, her phone rang.

She pulled it out, glanced at the screen and her expression shifted instantly.

“Where’s the plan I asked you to revise the day before yesterday?”

“It’s on the laptop you poured water on yesterday.”

“What?”

Her voice then shot up in pitch, causing her to be even angrier.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Why didn’t you fix it for me last night after the computer burned out? How could you sleep like a goddamn baby? Do you realize you’ve ruined everything for me?”

“I really can’t believe you. Fix it now! Use my computer.”

She shoved the laptop at me, but I pushed it back, covering my abdomen as I forced myself upright.

“If it’s that important, go ask whoever’s job it really is to fix it.”

While waiting for the replacement porridge to arrive, I finally made up my mind. I would divorce Monica. I needed proof, so I scrolled through Zane’s posts again.

One caught my eye, posted just the night before.

How had I missed it?

[The plan was approved by the supervisor. Luckily, my childhood sweetheart fixed it for me. You’re always there … I’m the happiest man in the world!]

The attached image shown on the post was a screenshot of the plan, with sensitive data blurred. Fortunately, I had memorized much of the plan when editing the plans for Monica. Comparing the details carefully, I realized this was the exact project Monica had asked me to revise.

Below the post, Monica had commented.

[It’s just instinctual to me to pamper you!]

And it didn’t stop there. Scrolling further, I found nearly every project I had revised for Monica over the past six months had originated from Zane. For half a year, I had been unknowingly crafting ‘happy plans’ for them.

“What do you mean by this?”

Monica’s tone carried no guilt, only indignation.

Without a word, I shoved Zane’s post in front of her.

“I … ”

She faltered, rare for her, at a loss for words.

I didn’t wait for her to think of excuses. Grabbing my coat, I turned and headed for the door.

I needed food more than her lies.

“Where are you going?”

Monica chased after me, but I didn’t bother to turn back.