It wasn’t because we didn’t want them. A hospital checkup had revealed that I had fertility issues.
I tried everything—medicine, treatments—but still, no pregnancy.
Seeing my silence, Anna seized the chance to strike harder.
In front of everyone, she mocked, “Claire Thompson, what can I even say about you?”
“You spend my man’s money, sleep with him, and still have the nerve to humiliate me?”
“Tell me, everyone—shouldn’t such a shameless woman just die?”
Immediately, people chimed in:
“She’s right! Women like her deserve it!”
“Immoral, shameless—you should be locked up!”
“If her parents knew their daughter was a mistress, they’d die of shame.”
Listening to their curses, I almost laughed at the absurdity.
Who was the real victim here?
I was the wife, yet the mistress accused me to my face.
And she incited the crowd to curse me as well.
I looked at David, wanting to know what he thought.
But he just stood there, silent, not even offering a word in my defense.
I was disappointed—but reality had become painfully clear.
The more silent David remained, the bolder Anna became.
If my own husband wouldn’t defend me, what else could I expect?
I asked David, “So this is how you’re celebrating my birthday?”
“It’s not like that, I—”
Before he could finish, Anna cut in, “Funny, my birthday’s in two days too.”
“I should’ve checked the calendar before going out today. Running into trash like you—it’s bad luck!”
“Anna, don’t you like that limited edition Chanel bag? Let’s go buy it.”
Anna’s eyes lit up. “Really? You’re the best, honey!”
That was David’s way of dealing with things—taking her hand and walking away to end the scene.
He left me standing there alone, a public joke.
As they went up the escalator together, he didn’t even turn back once.
He only sent me a text: Go home first. We’ll talk later.
I scoffed. Did he really think there was anything left to explain?
Seven years of marriage, destined to end in misery.
Just as I was about to leave, someone suddenly hit me from behind with a baseball bat.
It was a woman, striking me repeatedly—first on my back, then aiming at my head.
I tried to dodge, but she was relentless, chasing me down.
The crowd just watched, some even cheering her on.
“She deserves it! Mistresses like her should be beaten!”
Soon, I had no strength left to resist. The bat kept landing on me, blow after blow.
My gaze lifted to the second floor, meeting David’s eyes.