Ever since Derek moved into our place, whether it was the expensive suit I'd only worn twice or the fabric coupons I'd saved up for months, Jasmine gave them all to him under the guise of "subsidizing" him.
Now, as if to prove she didn't care about my little bit of brown sugar, she had her people bring over everything she'd brought from Capital City—specialty children's toys, and a precious, expensive suit.
The people around us gasped. "That's a department store suit! It feels so silky just touching it—I can't imagine how handsome you'd look wearing it..."
Slowly, everyone got the point. "So he's the real factory director's husband..."
Mocking looks fell on Derek. He shot me a vicious glare, gritted his teeth, and left.
I didn't bother with him. I just stared at that familiar suit, and that night I dreamed of my past life again.
Back then, after Derek moved in, I refused to give up the master bedroom. Jasmine and I had a huge fight.
She cursed me for being an unreasonable, jealous husband and kicked me out to spend the night outside in below-zero temperatures.
The brown sugar my uncle and aunt mailed me? "Subsidized" to Derek.
Even the suit I loved most—this very one—he eventually took from me after tricking her with just a few words.
Our fights became more and more frequent. At first, she would patiently coax me, but eventually she grew impatient.
The moment I truly gave up was when I went to bring her food at the factory.
A massive chandelier came crashing down. The person she instinctively shielded was Derek.
After I was discharged from the hospital, I brought up divorce. Jasmine gritted her teeth and told me not to regret it.
A divorced man's reputation is greatly affected.
The Art Troupe, my only source of income, fired me.
Not long after, our son was diagnosed as terminal. With nowhere else to turn, I went to beg Jasmine to pay for treatment and find connections.
She thought I was using our son to play the victim.
When we were kicked out of the hospital, our son weakly said he wanted to see Mom one more time.
Eyes burning, I carried him on my back and rushed over—only to find her and Derek, father and son, enjoying themselves like a happy family.
My son's face went pale. In my arms, he slowly stopped breathing.
I drank the rat poison I'd bought long ago, crying the whole time.