On the second day after our wedding, my wife cried to me about how difficult work was, so I voluntarily offered to give her $600,000 every year.
But on the third day of our marriage, she printed out a divorce agreement:
“Jack, if you’re insulting me with money, why don’t I just sign this divorce agreement now? You can sign it whenever you want!”
With that, she quickly signed her name in two or three strokes.
I felt suddenly panicked, constantly coaxing her, begging her, apologizing to her, even kneeling before her and slapping my own face.
As I was breaking down, scratching my head and at a loss, she cried and hit me a few times, then broke into a smile through her tears:
“Alright, I’ll forgive you then.”
After that, I became even more cautious around her. When she wanted to start her own business, I secretly injected capital.
But now, she felt her wings had grown strong, that she was a powerful career woman, and increasingly looked down on me, whom she considered a “nouveau riche.”
Since the beginning of this year, she had frequently mentioned divorce.
In just half a year, she had brought it up 99 times.
Seeing the divorce text she sent, and thinking about the annual $520,000 transfers, the two months she disappeared each year, my mysteriously missing items, the divorce agreement signed eight years in advance…
A chill ran down my spine. She had too many secrets.
Just as I was about to turn off my phone, my wife called.
The other end of the line was noisy, as if they were playing a dare game at an entertainment venue. This call was probably dialed by accident.
“Sarah and Ethan, drink from intertwined arms!”
“Your lips have to touch!”
“Carry her like a princess, lock them in the dark room, don’t come out for at least an hour. Hope you two fulfill your years-long dream.”
After a while, an unfamiliar female voice came from the other end:
“Who’s 1874? Probably a telemarketer, oh well, hang up!”
Then the call was disconnected.
My heart ached. She had saved my contact as my phone number “1874”.
Looking at the prominent four words on my phone screen: “Darling Wife”, I felt it was ironic.
There was a lot of work, and I wanted to stay up late to finish it, but I really wasn’t in the mood, so I went home.
After opening the door, I searched for a long time but couldn’t find my slippers, so I walked to the sofa in my leather shoes.
At this moment, looking around, all of my things in the house were gone.
As I was puzzled, my wife came out of the bedroom. She was startled when she saw me.
Last week she had said to me:
“I’m too tired of being with an unemployed loser like you. I need a husband who can support my career. But you? You’re out gallivanting all day, then come home to do laundry and cook. Can’t you find a decent job and work hard?”
When I retorted, telling her I was the CEO of the Smith Group, she just mocked me:
“Even dreams should have limits! You’re not making any progress, and your money will be squandered sooner or later. In a couple of years, you’ll be relying on me for food.”
She had seen me drinking with clients in private rooms too many times, so she automatically imagined me as a wastrel.
“The $600,000 a year was something you voluntarily gave me. You don’t need to give it anymore starting this year. But if you’re going to hold this over me for the rest of my life because of it, I’d rather return the money to you now.”
She said she needed some space, so she kicked me out:
“Go stay somewhere else for a week, let me have some peace and quiet!”
