Willy only noticed me slumped beside the toilet when he entered the bedroom to grab his pajamas.
"Honey, what's wrong? Is your stomach bothering you?"
His face was filled with worry, his concern seemingly genuine.
Just moments ago, he had been intimate with another woman, yet now he could seamlessly return to playing the role of a gentle and caring husband.
His acting skills were truly remarkable.
"Maybe I ate something that wasn’t clean. I’ll feel better once I throw up," I said weakly.
I tried to stand, but Willy rushed over to help me. I subtly sidestepped, avoiding his touch.
He had just been with another woman and I couldn’t bear to have him near me.
"Honey, are you sure you're okay? Do you want to go to the hospital?"
"No need!"
Just as I lay down on the bed, Elena appeared outside the open bedroom door.
With a playful flick of her finger, she hooked Willy’s underwear, sending him a seductive glance and whispering in a soft, breathy voice, "It’s dirty, let the blind woman wash it."
Willy frowned, signaling for her to just toss it in the washing machine.
"Can underwear be washed in the washing machine? It has to be hand-washed! I’m not your wife, so I’m not washing this!"
After Elena finished speaking, she casually tossed the underwear in the air, swaying her slender waist as she walked out.
The underwear landed perfectly on my feet.
Another wave of nausea rose in my stomach, but my voice was surprisingly calm as I asked, "What’s this? Did you throw it?"
"Oh, I accidentally dropped a rag!"
Willy hurriedly bent down and picked up the underwear.
At that moment, the sound of piano music suddenly filled the study and Willy’s expression immediately froze.
The piano was temporarily placed in our home by a friend. Neither Willy nor I could play and it had never been touched.
Elena couldn't resist showing off, deliberately trying to make Willy nervous.
I asked, confused, "Honey, is there someone else in the house?"
"No, no! It’s just my alarm going off. I still have some work to handle, so I’ll head to the study!"
He rushed out, but somehow tripped on the carpet and ended up falling flat on his face, like a dog tumbling over.
I didn't move an inch, only asking him symbolically if he was in pain.
He rubbed his chin and sat up, looking aggrieved. "Honey, do you not love me anymore? Back when I got hurt, you would always hug me and feel sorry for me..."
With someone like him, what right did he have to talk about love? What right did he have to ask for sympathy?
When he had nothing—no money, no prospects—I ignored my family's objections, gave up all my assets and married him. I even borrowed money from every friend I knew to support his business.
I loved him deeply and considered him my entire world.
But what did I get in return?
Not only did he bring his "lover" into our home, but he also got her pregnant right in front of my eyes.
He treated me like a fool. Why should I still love him?
Now, all I feel for him was hatred. I could hardly resist the urge to kill him with my own hands.
"I threw up too much earlier, I don't have any strength left," I muttered weakly.
"I was just joking, don't take it seriously! I'll get you some warm water to rinse your mouth, then you can rest! Wait for me!"
Minutes passed, yet he still hadn't returned.
He must have gotten caught up with Elena again.
As my strength returned, I stood up to go to the living room for some water.
Willy and Elena were sitting on the sofa, practically glued together, whispering and laughing. As I walked past them, they quieted down, pretending to be innocent.
"Honey, I'm sorry, I just took a call and forgot to get you some water."
"It's fine, I can manage."
Maybe worried that I was upset with him, he gently pushed Elena aside and walked over, taking my hand.
"I've been so busy lately, neglecting you. You're not upset, are you?"
Before I could respond, a sharp sound echoed.
Willy was too close to me and Elena, jealous, immediately smashed the ceramic doll my grandmother had made by hand.
