The day my childhood sweetheart and I had our worst fight, he slapped me across the face for the girl he loved. In return, I exploded and broke three of his ribs. He screamed for a divorce, but I refused. I thought we’d be stuck in this stalemate forever. But karma comes fast. Three months later, I fell hard for a sweet, innocent younger guy. He started chasing me for a title. So, I had to drag that familiar number out of my blocklist. When I called, a chirpy female voice answered: "Sarah, it's too late. Even if you come crawling back like a dog, Luke won't even look at you." Facing her provocation, I said calmly, "Tell Luke I want a divorce." The next second, the phone was snatched away, followed by a rustling noise, and then Luke's voice, trembling with suppressed rage. He said, "Sarah, you wouldn't dare." 1 The year I hated Luke the most. I hit the girl he loved most, and he slapped me back, demanding a divorce. For years, all he ever said was that I should learn to be obedient, to be gentle like Chloe. This was the first time he brought up divorce. I didn't agree. I pinned him to the floor, broke three of his ribs, and choked him until he passed out before he could say another word. Before Luke's eyes rolled back, I left him with these final words: "Divorce? Not a chance. You want to drive me crazy? Then deal with the consequences. Chloe will be the mistress forever, and you both will live in my shadow for the rest of your lives." Back then, I had a whole plan mapped out to torture them until death do us part. I hold grudges. Once I bite, I don't let go. Three years of marriage. Luke turned me from a bride full of hope into a lunatic. That couple ruined me. I swore I’d spend my life making sure they never knew peace. I even bought property outside the city for a long-term war. But fate never tells you what's coming next. I thought I'd be seeking revenge on Luke forever. But on the third day... I found a starving Liam collapsed on my doorstep. At the time, I heard Luke had woken up in the hospital, cursing me out to a room full of visitors. I excitedly put on my makeup, picked my most stunning red dress, and prepared to go enrage him further. But the moment I stepped out the gate, I tripped over a large, human-shaped object. Dazed, I turned him over and saw a young face. Liam had his luggage stolen, worked as a temp unloading cargo at a supermarket, and got scammed out of three days' pay. He was delirious with hunger. In his daze, his hand grabbed the hem of my dress. I saw his lips moving and leaned in closer. Then I heard his faint, gasping voice: "Mom..." ... After a long silence, I couldn't help but ask, "...What?" No response. He had passed out from hunger. 2 Later, I learned why. Liam's "Mom" was purely a hallucination brought on by starvation. When he was little, his biological mother abandoned him in a park. The last time he saw her, she was wearing a red dress just like mine. Collapsing at my door that day, seeing me squat down in my red dress through his blurry vision, he thought his mom had come to take him to heaven. When he confessed this, I threw my head back and laughed. Halfway through, realizing no one was laughing with me, I stopped. It wasn't funny. Liam was squatting in front of me, his big, wet eyes looking at my manic face. No anger, no shyness, nothing but deep concern. He was tall—6'3" when standing—very imposing. But his behavior was so harmless. Seeing me look at him, he got nervous, resting his chin on the sofa armrest, looking at me with those watery eyes. He said nothing, yet said everything. Realizing the malice of my laughter towards such a pure soul, I felt a pang of guilt, but I didn't know how to apologize. Three years of a toxic marriage taught me to use aggression and shouting to mask my fragility. Three years spent entangled with Luke made me almost forget that before marrying him, I was the proudest heiress in the city. The confident, poised woman I used to be seemed buried deep in my memories. Now, I was full of resentment towards the world. I thought I'd be trapped in hate forever. But Liam reached out, pawing at my hand like a puppy. Until my palm opened, and he placed a pendant in it. It was the one Liam always wore. A gift from his parents when he was born. Back when he was loved. Later, his father died in an accident, and his mother remarried and abandoned him. This pendant was the only good memory the world had left him. But now, he took it off and placed it in my palm. He said, "This used to be the most important thing to me. Now, you are. I give it to you, hoping it makes you happy." With that, he pushed my fingers closed around it and gently kissed my fist. It was the third month Liam had been living with me. I kept him with a mindset of amusement and manipulation, wanting to see what he wanted from me. But he did nothing. He just stood up, put on an apron, and went to the kitchen to cook me a nutritious meal. The spatula he held was the one I bought to use as a weapon against Luke's head during our fights. In Liam's hand, it looked small and toy-like, but his movements were agile, not clumsy at all. A smile played on the boy's lips. Sunlight filtered through, reflecting in his light brown puppy eyes. Like a ghost possessed me, I walked up and asked why he was so happy. "Because I can cook for you." Such a simple reason. Yet open to so many interpretations. Because someone was eating his food? Because he had a stable environment to cook in peace? Or simply because he liked cooking for me? Facing those eyes that easily saw through me, I suddenly didn't want to dig any deeper. 3 Under my protection, Liam found a job. No one dared to bully this orphaned, honest, and kind-hearted poor boy anymore. He was nineteen. At eighteen, he got into a good college but couldn't afford tuition. So he came to the city for work, thinking a big city meant more opportunities, only to be scammed as soon as he stepped off the train. Luckily, despite the rocky start, things were looking up. He got new ID documents, wore the clothes I bought him, and went to work full of energy every day. When he came back, he always carried bags of groceries. He thought I was too thin. When he held my slender wrists, he didn't know how much strength to use, deep worry etched on his chiseled face. Honestly, I wasn't petite. I even took boxing lessons to be able to punch that cheating couple, Luke and Chloe. But Liam was just too big. His past part-time jobs were all manual labor. Which meant he ate way more than the average person. So after his bag was stolen, he starved faster too. Now that he was full, he always wore a faint, happy smile. However, compared to his size, he was actually quite shy and sensitive. If I talked to him too much, he'd get embarrassed. According to his colleagues, Liam didn't talk much at work. But no one found him hard to get along with. Because he worked all day long. His work, other people's work—if you gave it to him, he did it. Unsurprisingly, Liam was friendly, sincere, and full of sunshine inside. Completely different from me. Current me was a bit too dark, constantly plotting how to torture my cheating husband and his little lover. Just because I missed the chance to gloat at Luke in the hospital didn't mean I gave up on torturing him. Giving up on the man who was my childhood sweetheart for twenty-seven years, who spent his fiery youth chasing and protecting me, only to tire of me quickly after marriage and fall for a young girl who looked a bit like me. 4 I remembered the last time we met, in Luke's office. I went to discuss divorce. Three years of marriage, but the honeymoon phase lasted only one. The remaining two years were spent in self-doubt and internal conflict. Eventually, I faced the failure of this marriage and wanted to have a proper talk with Luke. I didn't expect Chloe to be hiding under his desk... They interacted right in front of me, exchanging glances. Treating me as part of their foreplay. Chloe even thought she was hidden well. Leaning against Luke's leg, smiling slyly. And I, the moment Luke threw his head back with a satisfied groan, marched over, grabbed her hair, and dragged her out from under the desk. Chloe screamed as I slapped her, her pale face instantly swelling red. Behind me, Luke's voice rang out. "Sarah." I turned instinctively, only to be slapped so hard my vision blurred. It took me a while to recover. He looked down at me arrogantly. "Finally learned to fight for attention? Too bad, you look uglier by the minute." Cruel words fell one after another. My world plunged into chaos and storms. I remembered when Luke first confessed to me. His eyes shining, he said, "You look like a princess when you hold your head high. I want to protect you forever." But later: "She knows how to be submissive better than you. She knows how to please me. And you? You have to show sincerity, prove you love me more than she does." He brought Chloe to important social events, hiding her timidly behind him. Guests whispered as we stood apart. I kept my back straight and head high, the crystal chandelier like a lonely crown above me. But when I took off my ring and walked away without looking back, he chased me, hugging me from behind in a quiet corner. "Really angry? Guess my wife does care about me." His kisses landed on my neck, his tone lingering and ambiguous. "I just wanted to make you jealous. How can she compare to you? You're the rose I raised myself." He buried his face in my neck, laughing low. "You look so cute being stubborn and refusing to yield." Back then, I thought Luke was crazy. I wanted to leave, but entangled by our families' business interests, I endured again and again. Until they pushed too far. When I snapped back to reality, I had pinned Luke to the floor, smashing him with an ashtray, screaming, "I gave you too much face! You two hook up in front of me without shame, and you dare hit me?!" Luke's face was a bloody mess, terrifying to look at. His little girl was huddled in the corner, trying to be invisible, terrified. "Sarah, learn to behave, or we divorce." Even now, his eyes locked onto me, threatening. He always provoked me, then savored my breakdown from his high horse. Seeing his face twisted in pain, I suddenly laughed with relief. I said, "You know what, Luke? Intentional injury gets a heavy sentence, but domestic violence only gets a warning." "As long as we're married, I will torture you for life." With that, I grinned, showing all my teeth. "Divorce? Keep dreaming." My smile must have been maniacal because I saw clear fear in Luke's eyes. As my hands closed around his neck, I admit I thought about dying with him. But was it worth it? Letting him die so easily? No. Yes, hatred for him was the only thing keeping me alive. I refused to look back, refused to admit my life was completely twisted. Now, I was a madwoman, a shrew. My reputation ruined, entangled with a man who didn't love me. My hands started shaking uncontrollably again. The next second, a gentle touch met my palm. I turned and saw Liam resting his head on my knee. He gently pried open my hands, which I had clenched until my nails dug into the skin. After failing to calm me by massaging my palms or offering water, he pressed his cheek against my hand, finally pulling me out of the emotional storm. The boy stared at me with round puppy eyes, unmoving. I looked down at that face—youthful, tender, with deep features, looking a bit mixed-race. Liam was undoubtedly handsome, but his eyes were too clean, making it hard to have untoward thoughts. His cheeks and ears were red, but concern overrode his shyness. Seeing me look at him, he seemed to gather courage, took a deep breath, and pleaded, "Don't hurt yourself anymore, okay?" Then he gently lifted my other hand and placed it reverently on his head. When Liam first arrived, his short, stubbly hair felt great to touch. Back then, I joked that the condition for him staying was letting me pet his head whenever I wanted. Now, seeing his clumsy, silly attempt to please me, seeing the clarity in his eyes, I couldn't help but ask: "Liam, lurking by my side for so long, what do you really want?"
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