Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

When my mother falls gravely ill, my husband, who has asthenospermia, promises to help me think of something. So, I give him all my savings.

Despite being pregnant, I get a part-time job doing DoorDash deliveries. However, I see my husband when I pass by a realtor's office. He's supposed to be hard at work like me, but he's buying a place for his childhood friend. He even has his arm around her.

"That old hag thinks I only earn that little each month. Don't worry, Yvette. I only give her 10% of what I earn. The rest goes to you!"

I hold back my tears and grab the hem of his shirt, wanting to borrow some money for my mother's treatment. However, he shoves me away irritably. "I give you 2000 dollars a month! Isn't that enough? Have you spent it all on useless things?"

He leaves without another look back, ignoring my cries and pleas. He also kicks me, effectively murdering the child he's always dreamed of having.

Later, he grovels at my feet and begs for forgiveness. It's too bad I've already given up on him. I don't want him anymore.

"What's wrong with you? You're so late that my meal is already ice cold!"

It was pouring heavily when I had been stuck in traffic during peak hours, accidentally going over the delivery time by a single minute.

Enraged, the customer dumped the entire meal on me.

All I could do was force a smile and apologize while offering compensation.

The moment I walked out of the apartment building, I was taken aback when I saw my husband, who should've been working just as hard as I was, lavishly spending money on a new apartment for his recently divorced childhood sweetheart.

"Good thing I'm smart enough to tell her that I only make 2,000 dollars a month when really, I make 20,000," Hans Walker said. "Luckily, she's dumb as a rock and actually bought it. She even handed all her savings to me. That's why I could afford to buy you this place.

"Don't worry, Yvie. I promise you'll have a share in my paycheck every month."

Blushing, Yvette Lloyd buried her head in Hans' chest and murmured, "Hans, you're the best."

Hans beamed with pride. "We grew up together, after all. Even though you're divorced now, I'll take care of you for the rest of your life."

I froze. As my eyelids twitched, soup dripped from the ends of my hair and stung my eyes.

Tears streamed down my cheeks.

I couldn't believe my eyes. Hans, who had once worked overtime, pushing himself to exhaustion—just to help pay for Mom's medical bills—was now lying about his salary to buy a house for another woman.

With trembling hands, I pulled out my phone and called him.

After my call was rejected again and again, he finally picked up.

My voice was hoarse when I asked when he could visit Mom at the hospital, but he simply brushed me off.

"Honey, I'm busy working for your mom's medical bills. I don't have time to drop by the hospital," he said, his voice dripping with impatience. "I get that you feel bad for her, but you should at least try to be more understanding toward me too.

"Right, stop calling me. I need to focus on work now."

As the dial tone buzzed in my ear, my chest tightened. I felt like I was on the verge of suffocating.

Even now, Hans was still lying to me.

I smiled wryly.

When he was a child, a fire broke out in his home. Mom, a professional firefighter, gave him her own oxygen mask and braved the risk of an explosion to carry him to safety. But in doing so, she inhaled too much smoke, leaving her with severe complications.

After we got married, Mom treated him like her own son. Never had I expected that, after all these years, suffering would be all that remained of our relationship—not bliss.

The person Mom saved was nothing more than an ungrateful, heartless bastard.