Chapter 8
David glanced at me coldly, “I believe her! She would never lie to me. You’re spreading
rumors about her, and I only learned the truth by questioning her,” he said.
I stared at him, unable to tolerate him for another second, “David, honestly, let’s get
divorced,” I said.
“Just looking at you makes me sick. I was truly blind before,” I continued.
I should have brought this up earlier, but he’d been in jail, making it impossible to contact
him.
David paused, about to speak, when his phone suddenly rang.
After a brief conversation, his face changed, “What? Someone filed an official report against me? Who?” he said.
“Fine, I’m coming right now,” he continued.
I smiled slightly.
I knew David had just been released.
So I deliberately filed an official report with his rescue team today.
Before he could hurriedly leave, I called out, “David, didn’t I tell you I’d make you pay?” I
said.
David frowned but still turned to leave.
In the afternoon, I received a call from the property management, “Hello, a man named
David claims to be your husband. He showed us your marriage certificate and is causing a scene at our complex entrance,” they said.
Causing a scene?
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“I’m coming down,” I responded.
I put on my shoes and went downstairs.
David looked somewhat disheveled.
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He stared at me coldly, “Are you done making a scene? It’s just a lost child. Why are you so angry, filing an official report against me? Fine, I promise to care for you more,” he said.
“Go online and make a video admitting you’re mentally ill and withdraw the report,” he
demanded.
I frowned and slapped him hard across the face.
Mentally ill? How could he even suggest that!
“David, you’re even more disgusting than I imagined! You killed our full–term baby and repeatedly cheated. What makes you think I could still love you?” I said.
“I wish you would die right in front of me. Becoming a widow would be more satisfying
than divorce!” I continued.
This slap was long overdue.
David stared at me coldly, “She was right. You’ve confronted her multiple times, always ready to slap her. I didn’t believe it before, but now I do. She must have suffered a lot,” he
said.
I laughed in anger, “She’s using you as a backup plan, and you’re playing the devoted lover?” I said.
I pulled a document from my bag and threw it in his face, “Look carefully at what kind of woman you supposedly love!” I said.
Then I turned and walked away.
The next day, David was waiting for me again at my building’s entrance.
Chapter 8
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This time, he held roses, his face full of apparent remorse, “I was wrong. I didn’t realize you were telling the truth. She deceived me. Can you forgive me?” he said.
I glanced at the ninety–nine roses in his hand and coldly smiled.
I’ve never liked romance.
I prefer practical things, like a car or direct money transfer.
After five years of marriage, David never understood even my most basic preferences.
Good thing that the child was lost and I survived.
With David’s inferior genes, it would have been terrible for the next generation.
“Get the hell away from me!” I said.
I threw the flowers to the ground.
My parents, who were returning from a walk, witnessed David harassing me.
My mother rushed forward and began cursing, “How dare you harass my daughter? You shameless man! Who gave you the right to bother her?” she said.
My father punched David, making him spit out blood, “Stay away from my daughter. I’ll hit you every time I see you,” he said.
After that, my parents pulled me away.
But David wasn’t giving up.
A week later, he was still waiting at my complex entrance.
When he saw me, he handed me a meal box.
“I neyer had a chance to cook for you before. You always said I didn’t understand your
tastes. I checked your social media and saw you liked some food videos,” he said.
“I made sweet and sour pork chops, buffalo wings, and clam chowder. Try them,” he
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continued.
I took the food box and smashed it directly onto David.
The clam chowder splashed out, dripping from his head down his clothes.
David looked utterly miserable.
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“If you had an ounce of conscience, you’d agree to divorce and stay away from me,
I said.
“But I love you,” David said, staring at me with a pleading tone.
“Baby, can’t you give me one more chance?” he continued.
I glanced at him, “I’m going to court soon. Can you testify as a witness that Ashley had motives to harm me?” I asked.
“If you can, I’ll consider it,” I said.
David paused, conflicted.
I smiled sarcastically and turned away.
I already knew he wouldn’t help me.
Much later, the day before the court hearing, I learned a shocking piece of news.
The girl Ashley had bullied in college, who had dropped out and remained depressed, had finally sought revenge.
After my marketing accounts exposed Ashley’s “glorious achievements” and the story went viral, the girl found Ashley’s address.
She went to Ashley’s home and stabbed her nearly to death, completing her revenge.
David had just arrived to see Ashley.
When he tried to save Ashley, who was lying in a pool of blood, the vengeful girl, in a frenzy, became violent.
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Half an hour later, one died, and two was severely injured.
Ashley was dead.
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David was critically wounded, stabbed in the femoral artery, condemned to a wheelchair for
life.
The girl was also critically injured.
She woke up in the hospital and immediately jumped to her death.
Hearing this news, I felt a mix of emotions.
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My best friend, who knew everything about my situation, was beside me.
“Didn’t David just beg you to get back together recently? Why did he go to Ashley and try to save her?” she asked.
I sipped my coffee, “Perhaps he always loved Ashley,” I said.
Those attempts to reconcile with me were simply because I was the more convenient option.
Men always think this way.
