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.

The moment I got back home, it was already late at night. For the first time, Monica sat on the sofa waiting for me. The mess that had littered the floor earlier had been cleaned.

When she saw me walk in, Monica greeted me with unusual attentiveness.

“Babe, things weren’t what you thought. The plan belonged to the company, but since you didn’t have a position there, I figured it was better to let Zane get the benefit than to let others have it.”

“Don’t be angry. I booked a hotel for tomorrow so that we’ll celebrate our anniversary.”

“I admit I was wrong not to come back last time. This time, I’ll pick you up at the hotel myself.”

Hearing that, I quietly slipped the divorce agreement back into my pocket. I might as well give this miserable marriage a proper ending. After nodding, I went straight to my bedroom.

Half a year ago, when Zane returned from abroad, I started sleeping in a separate room. The woman who once loved curling up beside me suddenly found my occasional snoring unbearable, complaining about how I crowded her. From then on, she had insisted we sleep apart.

Nevertheless, I would always indulge her. Though reluctant, I moved from the master bedroom into the smaller second bedroom.

The next morning, I rose early, packing my belongings and preparing to move out once we cleared everything up that evening. Monica left early for the company, but around noon, she called, telling me she was waiting downstairs.

Although I had no idea why we had to go to the hotel so early, I still dressed carefully and went down. But when we arrived, I realized this wasn’t a hotel at all. Instead, it was an upscale residential complex.

Monica pulled me toward a building where a large moving truck was parked, smiling at a woman standing with folded arms.

“Mr. Lewinsky, I heard you’re moving today, so we came to help!” she said cheerfully.

Then she pushed me toward the truck.

“Help move things quickly. Mr. Lewinsky is upset and won’t sign the contract because you didn’t change the plan in time. You need to make up for it.”

In that instant, I understood it. The talk of celebrating our anniversary had been nothing but an excuse. She had tricked me, all to coax a client.

I glanced around and, sure enough, spotted Zane among the movers.

When our eyes met, he strode over quickly and deliberately rammed my shoulder.

“Why are you still standing there? Didn’t they call for help over there?”

I turned to the truck.

Three workers were struggling to lift a steel frame together, shouting, “Come on, we need more people!”

Zane raised his hand instantly as he said, “No need for many. Michael can handle it alone.”

“Yes, he’s strong. Let him carry it,” Monica added without hesitation.

I stared at her in disbelief, but she had actually said that.

Not only did she forget that I was still injured, but she had also forgotten I had donated a kidney to save her life?

I had switched to resort management because I could no longer do heavy labor after losing that kidney. Even a healthy porter might struggle with such a massive steel frame, so how could someone like me possibly bear it?

But before I could react, both Monica and Zane grabbed me, dragging me to the front of the truck, one on each side, turning my back to the unloading ramp.

“Monica, let go! Do you realize someone could die?” I shouted.

She ignored me, brushing off a worker who tried to intervene.

“It’s fine. He can handle itl. After all, he used to carry heavy loads.”

The moment the steel frame dropped onto my back, it felt like a mountain crushing me. My knees buckled instantly, slamming into the ground. Both Monica and Zane screamed and released me.

Agonizing pressure squeezed my insides, tearing open the wound on my abdomen. Warm blood and fluid seeped down my stomach. I couldn’t endure it any longer. My body collapsed completely.