I killed My Preference For You With My Own Hands

Seven years ago, I became the prospective daughter-in-law of the Beck family.

On the wedding night, my husband, Darcy Beck, left me alone to fly across the ocean, just because his first love, Flora Green, mentioned that the food was not to her liking.

That night, Flora posted a photo of the two of them holding hands on Facebook.

"Love means he never lets me suffer," she wrote.

Three years later, Flora returned, with 9999 rose petals on the ground. The welcome ceremony was held like a wedding scene.

The two of them passionately embraced on the dance floor, kissing each other deeply.

I led the applause and thoughtfully ordered a very expensive champagne for the two of them.

After the dance was over, the champagne that had just been served was knocked over by Flora.

Darcy did not hesitate to publicly accuse me, "You don't have to be so shameless. Do you really have to be so mean to Flora? Her clothes are now wet through, are you satisfied? What are you trying to do to involve innocent people?"

He did not hesitate to pick Flora up and carry her upstairs to change clothes.

I rubbed my forehead and did not persist in going to ask for an explanation.

I had had enough this time.

After they left, everyone found an excuse to leave.

The party ended on a sour note. I returned home alone and saw the cold food, starting to clear it up.

Today marked my third wedding anniversary with Darcy.

At the dinner table, he had promised me that he would accompany me to celebrate the anniversary.

The lights were off in the house, and I stumbled when turning around with the dishes, unable to maintain my balance, and fell to the ground.

The sharp sound of breaking plates broke the silence of the air, and my hand landed heavily on the broken plates, leaving a deep wound.

I stared blankly at the blood dripping onto the ground, feeling a sense of relief.

The lights were turned on. Darcy looked at me coldly, picking me up and throwing me onto the sofa.

"Why are you still pursuing some kind of ceremony at such an old age?" he said. "You're just making a fuss."

He loosened his tie, knelt down in front of me, and started applying medicine.

"Faye, is this your new way of flirting?" he said.

"What would you have done if I didn't come back tonight?" he added.

Darcy's voice was low and deep, which always made my heart tremble, but the faint scent of jasmine on his body constantly reminded me that this man's affection was not for me.

He held my hand and picked up the alcohol, pouring it directly onto the wound.

A strong alcohol smell quickly filled the air, and the burning sensation on my hand made me tremble all over.

He was trying to take revenge on Flora in a roundabout way.

Thinking about this, I coldly said, "I can do it myself."

Darcy showed a momentary pause, and his hand was still in the air, motionless, as he stared at me fixing the wound.

After a while, he raised his eyebrows and returned to his usual cold demeanor, scolding me.

"I thought you were a good girl, and you should know you have no right to be jealous.

"You have already become my wife, and no one can shake your position. What else are you dissatisfied with?"

In the past, I would have been scared and apologized when I heard this. I would have promised him that there would be no next time.

But now I just find it boring.

I didn't answer, packed up the medicine box, and turned into the bedroom.

I thought he would leave, but I didn't expect him to follow me in. The next second, his warm body leaned over.

He lightly kissed my earlobe as an apology, and I firmly held his hand that was sneaking into my pajamas.

Darcy's voice was hoarse, and he held my hands tightly and pressed me against the bed, not allowing me to resist. "Faye, couples argue and make up soon. You're being too extreme," he said.

I struggled violently, but all I got was a tighter restraint.

His eyes were filled with malice, and he warned me again, "Faye, I thought you were a smart person. You know, angering me has no good outcome.

"Do you not want to pay for your mother's medical bills anymore? You should know my methods. Even if you don't think about yourself, you should think about her, right?"

Tears flowed down my cheeks, and I stubbornly turned my head to the side.

Darcy slightly curled his lips, and a series of kisses fell on me, just as my consciousness was about to be completely taken away by him, Flora's phone call came in.

A fleeting annoyance flashed across his eyes, but he finally managed to restrain himself and picked up the phone.

Flora's voice was filled with tears and a sense of great injustice. "Darcy, I'm so scared to sleep alone here. Can you come and stay with me?"

I tensed up, staring fixedly at Darcy's eyes.

He raised his eyebrows slightly, whispering to me without words, "Kiss me, and I'll stay."

I stared at him fixedly, suddenly wrapping my neck around his and touching my lips to his.

Darcy was momentarily stunned, and then he pushed me away with a frown as if punishing me for my ingratitude.

He kissed me on the forehead and smiled at me, saying, "Get some rest early."

Darcy's soothing voice comforting Flora outside the door drifted in through the door, "Don't be afraid. I'll be here soon."

"It's okay. I'll just comfort her later anyway."

I weakly closed my eyes, waiting for my senses to return. When I finally came to my senses, I realized that my tears had been flowing.

He always did this. Whenever was in trouble, he would forget about me.

What was I still expecting?

I should have known that for him, I was always the second choice.