On the day of our wedding, I suddenly gained the ability to read minds.
That was when I learned that the gentle, poised man standing before me—my childhood sweetheart—did not love me.
Not only did he not love me, but he also hurt and slandered me.
That's when I hatched the perfect plan for revenge.
As he stood at my doorstep, pale and fragile, begging for my forgiveness, I parted my lips and whispered,
"You really disgust me, Tobias Farrar!"
...
After a six-year relationship, today was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, and I had been eagerly anticipating the shy lowering of my head. But when the man I loved spoke the words "I love you" in front of the priest, I heard another woman's name.
I looked up at Tobias, but he remained gentle, his concerned gaze still fixed on me.
Was it just my imagination?
I shook my head, feeling guilty for losing focus.
But that evening, when Tobias—drunk and clinging to me like a child—melted my heart, I heard him mutter,
"Meredith, I miss you so much."
My body froze, as if encased in ice. When I lowered my head, Tobias' hot, passionate kiss crashed down on me, swallowing my questions along with it.
In the midst of our embrace, I held his head, smoothing his attractive brows, and whispered softly in his ear,
"Tobias, I’m Gwen."
Looking at this elegant, handsome man, I felt both familiar and unfamiliar, and a deep sense of helplessness and despair surged within me.
When we were dating, no matter how busy he was, every month during my period, he would always make me vegetable soup with brown sugar to warm my stomach, gently whispering sweet words to comfort me.
I loved how, even when I was far from home, he would wait in line for Buffalo Wings every week and bring them back for me.
I vividly remembered how we shared the same bowl of rice, the same ice cream, and how everything I had tasted but no longer ate, I gave to him.
Everyone thought that Tobias' one true love was me.
So when I learned he didn’t truly love me, I couldn’t accept it.
But when the tears hid beneath the blanket, I comforted myself.
"It’s okay. The rest of my life will be spent with him, and I only have him."
But in the few months after our marriage, the truth he had been hiding slapped me in the face over and over again.
Tobias had slept with the woman he truly loved on the day of our wedding.
How ironic. How laughable.
When he said I was gentle and thoughtful, he was thinking of the positions his true love had unlocked. When he said I was traditional and didn’t understand romance, he was using the scarf and gloves I had knitted for him, constantly talking about how guilty he felt and how he couldn’t continue like this.
Hearing his inner guilt whenever he saw me, each time he said he wanted to end the affair and live seriously with me, I felt disgusted. I couldn’t help but mutter to myself,
"Ugh, I wouldn’t even take that dog if it were gifted to me."
Every day, with each passing moment, my hatred for the man beside me deepened, until all my feelings for him disappeared, leaving only hatred.
But the one thing he shouldn’t have done was post it all over social media, exposing the memories I most wanted to forget.
Not only did it make me the villain in everyone's eyes, but he also showcased how he had cut ties with his true love and was now "seriously" living with me.
The comments I saw were full of curses for him and expressions of how stupid I was.
Fortunately, he was relieved that I didn’t use Instagram or TikTok.
I didn’t use them, but I could still hear it all.
So, I came up with the perfect plan for revenge, to ruin his reputation and plunge him into endless pain.
That night, after he had attended a drinking party, I was in the kitchen, setting up the camera to capture my "wonderful life."
I was just pretending to throw some ingredients into a bowl for a hangover soup.
He was in the living room, his eyes closed, rubbing his forehead and clutching his stomach to ease the dizziness and stomach pains from the alcohol. He rose and hugged me from behind.
"Gwen, you're too good to me."
When he acted like this, calling me by that name, my heart still thudded in my chest, reminding me of how much I had once loved him.
"You’re drunk." I gently pushed his arms away, feeling the hatred flowing through my veins.
The last time he was preparing his doctoral thesis, I made him his favorite dishes, washed his clothes, tidied his desk covered in papers, and stayed up late into the night just to hand him a cup of warm milk.
All for a hug that sank deep into my bones, a hug I still remembered clearly, but now every time I touched him, I felt nauseous.
I couldn’t understand it. If he didn’t love me, why not just let me go?
I could have let go. I could have admitted openly that he had once been my light, but he was never my moon.
"Gwen, let’s have a child," he suddenly proposed.
I initially rejected him, but at the mention of a more concrete plan, I hesitated.
"Tobias, you better not regret it."
The rain pounded relentlessly against the window glass. I gripped the bed sheets, swallowing all my emotions.
Tears blurred my vision.
Perhaps it was the intensity of my gaze that caught Tobias’ attention.
"Don’t be scared, Gwen." He leaned down to kiss me, his breath heavy with the scent of alcohol. I quickly turned my head to avoid it.
As I gazed at the flickering light above, I remembered that year when I threw caution to the wind.
