My fiancée’s childhood friend has tested me three times.
The first time, when Claire Shaw caught a cold, he hid razor blades inside my shoes—slicing open my arch—as I rushed barefoot to deliver her medicine.
He claimed it was to test whether my love for her could endure pain.
The second time, on the fifth anniversary of our relationship, while I left the office early to make her a surprise dinner, he sprinkled itching powder inside my kitchen apron.
After I finished cooking, my entire body swelled up in hives.
He laughed, saying he wanted to see if my heart was truly committed.
The third time, after two exhausting weeks on a business trip, Claire prepared a bowl of comforting noodles to welcome me home.
He hid two live earthworms in the broth.
He left me a proud message:
A test to see whether I would lose control — abuse her — after tasting the bitterness in love.
Claire always spoke gently when defending Jason Kim:
“Jason used his tuition to cover my mom’s surgery.
His attempt to study abroad failed because of that.”
“And while we were abroad, he took care of my mom at the rehabilitation facility.”
“He sacrificed so much for me. It’s just hard for him to accept that I’m marrying you. Please try to understand him.”
But what Claire didn’t know was—
because of that third test, her wedding was about to turn into a funeral.
“Ethan… why are there earthworms in the noodles Claire made for you?”
Linda Shaw knelt on the floor, choking and retching, fury in her trembling voice.
She had secretly returned from the rehabilitation center, hoping to surprise Claire.
Claire wasn’t home.
Only a bowl of noodles, clearly labeled for me, waited on the dining table.
Linda was exhausted and hungry from the long bus ride.
She took a bite—
and bit into two cold, slimy worms.
Then the Bluetooth speaker in the living room suddenly played Jason’s voice:
“Ethan Carter! Hahaha!
How’s the earthworm flavor?”
“This is your third test.”
“Love isn’t always sweet! You must handle the bitterness too!”
Linda’s body shook with rage.
“Jason Kim put those things in the noodles?! What is going on?!”
I forced a bitter smile.
“Claire said you owed him. That he paid for your surgery.
That he cared for you for years, and… he loves her.
She wanted to let him vent.”
Linda froze—then snapped:
“Rubbish! That boy gambled all his tuition away! He never paid for my surgery!”
“Ethan, call Claire back right now!”
I dialed Claire again and again—no answer.
The silence in the room turned suffocating.
It was late at night.
Her being out was already troubling.
Now her phone was unreachable—as if she’d vanished.
Linda’s complexion worsened with worry.
Finally, on my tenth attempt—
a voice picked up. Not Jason’s.
Claire’s. Anger boiling beneath every word:
“Ethan, I allowed Jason to put those earthworms there!”
“Last time, he was just helping me pick up clothes from our bedroom, and you beat him up!”
“That was a punishment!”
I froze, stunned.
Jason was clearly trying to install a hidden camera in our bedroom—
I caught him red-handed.
I didn’t even hit him that hard.
But Claire cut me off, furious:
“Enough! Jealousy doesn’t justify slandering him!”
“I’ve told you so many times—he took care of Mom and sacrificed everything for us!”
“A few tests and you’re making this a huge deal?!”
