Chapter 2

Every detail in the house was the result of George and me staying up late designing together.

He'd once held my hand, kissed the corner of my lips, and smiled:

"You're the only mistress of this house. There will never be anyone else."

But less than two months later, Betty moved into our home under the excuse of a graduation internship, treating me like a servant to order around.

"Christina, can you cut me some fruit? I'm allergic to mango though!"

"Christina, where's George's bathrobe? It's too cold after my shower. Can I borrow it?"

"Christina, I'm scared of the dark by myself. Can I sleep with George tonight?"

When Betty said that last line, she batted her eyes. She knew my opinion didn't matter.

Suppressing my dissatisfaction, I was about to warn Betty not to mess around when I saw George pull her into the bedroom.

"Betty's just a kid to me. You're not going to be petty with a kid, are you?"

This matter that had bothered me for so long ended up being dismissed as me being petty, and I got lectured by the whole family.

The coffee table I loved sat in the center of the living room. Our wedding photos on the bookshelf now looked bitterly ironic.

Lost in thought, the door suddenly burst open. Betty's laughter reached my ears, followed by complaints.

"Christina, you're home alone and didn't even make dinner?"

Right. In five years of marriage, this was the first time I didn't want to cook dinner.

I didn't respond. Standing for so long had made my lower back ache again.

George stared at me like I was his enemy:

"Christina, you're so angry about the savings that you won't even cook dinner?!"

Ruth walked in from behind the door. She had severe OCD and couldn't tolerate even a speck of dust.

My chronic back pain had become this severe under her day-after-day nagging.

Ruth raised her voice, her hand trembling with anger:

"Christina, you didn't mop the floor again today! Are you trying to make the whole family sick with germs!"

"How did our family end up with such a daughter-in-law!"

Then Ruth, as usual, started bringing up old grievances, criticizing me inside and out.

I'd devoted myself wholeheartedly to serving this family, giving up my career and life, only to receive such differential treatment in return.

I laughed bitterly. The last trace of hope in my heart vanished completely.

"I'm not hungry, so why would I cook dinner for you? Don't you have hands?"

George's face turned iron-blue, as if looking at a stranger, his brow furrowed tightly.

I turned to look at Ruth, who was still cursing, and said calmly:

"Since I'm so terrible, why don't you have George marry Betty instead? She seems pretty willing."

The moment those words left my mouth, Betty's eyes turned red, looking as if she'd been completely slandered, and she turned to leave.

"So this is how Christina sees me! And I thought of you as family. I'm leaving!"

George quickly grabbed Betty to explain, then turned and slapped me across the face.

The force was so great I fell directly onto the glass coffee table.

My already agonizing lower back felt like it had snapped in two.

I cried out in pain. The glass table shattered instantly, shards embedding themselves in my flesh, making me shudder.

Seeing my torn and bleeding state, George's voice softened somewhat, but still carried suppressed anger:

"I've told you so many times—Betty is just my sister. Can you stop being so unreasonable!"

"Consider what happened today a lesson. Don't make things difficult for me again!"

Ruth snorted coldly and stepped over my body to go to the side bedroom.

Betty continued sobbing.

Just before George was about to leave, I spoke with trembling voice.

My tone carried a note of finality:

"George, let's get divorced!"