"Elena, how about we make a bet?"
Luke proposed that after I married Andrew, I couldn't deliberately do my makeup or dress up whenever I saw him.
He even wanted me to make myself look ugly with foundation.
If I could keep that up for five years, he would give up and let us be together.
But we didn't make it.
The first year, I darkened my skin, pretending I'd gotten a tan.
The second year, pimples broke out across my face.
The third year, little freckles appeared.
…
Along with my tiny, almost imperceptible changes, Andrew's attitude toward me deteriorated.
At first, he stopped calling me "baby" and coaxing me. Holidays came and went with no flowers, no gifts, no red envelopes. Whenever I asked, he'd shrug carelessly.
"We're already an old married couple. Isn't all that stuff exhausting?"
Later came the silence. Especially when he came home from work and saw me looking unkempt—his mood would sour instantly. He started spending most evenings buried in his study.
After that, impatience crept in.
On weekends he'd obviously go out with friends, but tell me he was working overtime. I even heard a recording one of his buddies sent.
His friend joked, "Andrew, weren't you a total wife guy before? When you first got married, you wouldn't even come to our hangouts—couldn't wait to be glued to her every day. You told us Elena was a rare beauty and you'd found true love. It's only been three years. What, now you're hiding from her?"
Andrew's voice was thick with impatience.
"Elena? Sure, I loved her like crazy at first—because she was still beautiful. Who knew that after just three years, her best days would already be over? Every day I see that face, and she still clings to me wanting gifts and kisses—I'm about to throw up."
"Forget sleeping with her. I haven't touched her in six months. I feel nothing."
When I heard those words, the blood in my veins turned to ice.
After all, Andrew had whispered to me countless times, his voice so gentle: "Elena, what I love is who you are inside. It has nothing to do with your face."
"Even if you become ugly someday, become old—my love for you won't change."
But the truth was, I only became ugly.
And he revealed his true face.
Women are always softhearted. Even after hearing something so vile, I still gave him a chance. I told myself he was just in a bad mood, just irritated for the moment.
Until the company annual party, when Andrew and his secretary Sophie disappeared at the same time.
When I burst into that hotel room to catch them, I found them with their clothes in disarray.
I went crazy, hurling a wine glass at them.
Andrew's first instinct was to shield Sophie, pulling her behind him. Then he turned to me, his face twisted with disgust.
"Elena, are you done making a scene?"
"Staring at that face of yours every day, I feel like throwing up even when I haven't eaten."
"Look at yourself right now—like a shrew. What man would want that?"
His words cut like knives, stabbing straight into my heart.
The love I thought would last a lifetime didn't even survive five short years.
"It's okay. No matter how bad things were before, it's all in the past."
Luke squeezed my hand, pulling me out of my memories.
"Elena, forget all of that. Look forward."
He pinched my cheek, smiling as he led me into the county clerk's office.
When we came out again, his face was split with a doting grin, his whole body practically vibrating with joy—like he didn't know what to do with himself.
