In the middle of the night, I got up to feed the baby and caught my husband satisfying his urges in the bathroom. That’s not a big deal. I’m still breastfeeding, and the stretch marks from carrying twins haven’t faded yet. I can understand if he’s not in the mood. But when I saw the photo he was looking at, I completely lost it. It was Melody, a girl he dated during our breakup period. I slapped him and asked if he’d been using Melody’s photos to get off for the past year and more that he hadn’t touched me. He calmly straightened his clothes and smiled. “Not just this past year. Even when we were doing IVF and I had to provide sperm samples, I did it this way!” Chloe I’m Chole. It was the middle of the night when I got up to feed my babies. As I passed by the bathroom, I noticed the door was slightly ajar. The light was off, but I could hear the faint sound of running water. I had a hunch about what was going on. Since I got pregnant, Alex and I hadn’t been intimate for safety reasons. Now, six months after giving birth, he still hadn’t touched me. I understood – I was still breastfeeding, and my body hadn’t fully recovered yet. Quietly, I pushed the bathroom door open. In the dim light from his phone, I could see Alex’s back, slightly hunched over. One hand was braced against the wall, while the other… A wave of sympathy washed over me. I called out his name softly, intending to go and embrace him. We were overdue to resume our normal marital life. But Alex turned around, startled. The look of desire in his eyes instantly cleared when he saw me. And I… in that moment when he turned, I clearly saw what was on his phone screen. It was a photo of Melody. Melody Lin. The girl Alex had dated for three months during our breakup. Rage boiled up inside me. My outstretched arms, ready to embrace him, instead swung around in a vicious slap across his face. I screamed at him, asking if he had been using Melody’s photos to satisfy himself all this time – over a year – that he hadn’t touched me. He locked his phone screen and started adjusting his clothes, as if I’d ruined his mood. I grabbed his collar, demanding answers. He showed no guilt whatsoever. Looking me up and down with a smirk, he said something that shattered me completely: “Not just this past year. Even when we were doing IVF, when I had to provide sperm samples – I used her photos then too!” Chloe His words hit me like a thunderbolt. I stood there, stunned, as he finished straightening his clothes and left the bathroom. The dark mirror reflected my unkempt, ghost-like appearance. No wonder he wasn’t attracted to me. I remembered our IVF treatments at the hospital. The doctor had Alex go to a private room to provide his sample. He was in there for a long time. Another woman doing IVF told me wives were allowed to go in and “help” if needed. I knocked on the door. Alex opened it just a crack. I asked if he wanted me to come in and help. He slammed the door shut and locked it. At the time, I thought he was just embarrassed. Now I realized he didn’t need me – he had been using Melody’s photos instead. The thought that our precious babies, the fruit of our love, were somehow tainted by Melody’s involvement made me sick. But I had brought this on myself. Before we got married, Alex and I had broken up for eight months. I was the one who dumped him. He was two years younger than me, fresh out of college with a mediocre job and no ambition. He spent all his free time playing video games, while my male coworkers were getting promotions and six-figure salaries. My family was pressuring me to settle down, buy a house, get married. I tried to talk to Alex about buying a place together. His parents, both working class, agreed to help with the down payment if we took out a mortgage for the rest. I was fine with that, but my mom complained. She said my cousins’ husbands had all bought houses outright, or at least covered the mortgage payments themselves. Plus they bought cars too. My mom felt that since I was prettier and had a better job than my cousins, I deserved better than what Alex could offer. I understood my mom’s perspective, and I understood Alex’s family’s limitations. So I tried to mediate between everyone, which left me emotionally drained. But Alex didn’t understand my position at all. When I was working overtime, he was playing games. When I was on the phone placating my mom, he was playing games. When I wanted to go look at apartments, he made excuses not to come – and I’d return to find him still gaming. Fed up and full of resentment, I broke up with him. I packed all his things from our apartment into one suitcase. The afternoon he left, carrying just that suitcase, I felt a twinge of guilt knowing he was going to crash at a friend’s place. But I pushed it aside. After that, work kept me extremely busy with long hours and business trips. I was too preoccupied to deal with Alex’s attempts to reconcile. By the time things slowed down, nearly six months had passed. Alex seemed to have gotten through the worst of the breakup. And I found I felt surprisingly liberated being single. Potential suitors started appearing, some with very impressive credentials. But then my best friend called with some news – Alex was dating someone new, a girl named Melody who apparently looked a lot like me. At first I just felt bad for him. We’d been together since high school and had a deep emotional bond. The fact that he was so hung up on me that he found a lookalike replacement was kind of touching, in a sad way. My friend also mentioned that the breakup had been a wake-up call for Alex. He’d done some serious self-reflection and was now much more driven at work. His company had launched a new game that he helped develop. He’d even gotten a promotion and stock options. It seemed the old saying was true – you plant the seeds, someone else reaps the harvest. I had sacrificed our relationship to motivate Alex to improve himself, only for this Melody girl to enjoy the results. Maybe it was that seed of resentment that made me lose my composure when I finally saw Alex again. I had just returned to the city when I happened to see Alex dropping Melody off at the train station. I was waiting for a taxi when I spotted them getting out of Alex’s new car. My first thought was that Melody really did look remarkably similar to me. Watching Alex wrap his arm tenderly around her waist, I was overcome with jealousy and regret. For the first time since our breakup, I realized I still loved Alex. I waited by his car for him to return from seeing her off. When he came back, I said simply, “Alex, I’m back.” I saw his eyes well up with tears, but he stood frozen in place. I went to embrace him. “You’ve finally grown up,” I said. “My tough love worked after all.” He pushed me away, then couldn’t resist reaching out to wipe my tears. I hugged him again. He pushed me away again. “Why are you back now?” he asked. “I have a girlfriend.” But three months of dating couldn’t compare to our years of history. Though he was rejecting me, I could see the pain and longing in his eyes. I begged and pleaded with him for days. My mom even flew in when she heard what was happening. She had a private conversation with Alex. I don’t know what she said, but afterwards – despite looking unhappy – Alex agreed to get back together with me. After eight months apart, everything seemed to be moving in a positive direction. Alex could afford a house now, and he had a nice car. My mom had stopped constantly criticizing him now that he was more successful. We got married quickly. I was confident Alex would soon forget about Melody, who he’d only known for three months. But I never imagined Alex would say what he did that night in the bathroom… Chloe After leaving the bathroom, Alex and I had a huge fight. The babies woke up crying, and my mom – who was staying with us to help with childcare – was startled awake as well. The whole house erupted into chaos in the middle of the night. When my mom found out the reason for our fight, she collapsed onto the sofa, looking faint. I panicked and took her blood pressure – 190 over 90. She was already exhausted from helping with the babies. Now the shock had triggered her hypertension. To his credit, Alex immediately stopped arguing and rushed to get her medication and water. Once she’d calmed down a bit, my mom launched into a tirade from her spot on the couch: “Alex, how can you be so heartless? Don’t you know how much Chloe has sacrificed for you, how much she’s suffered? She’s been with you since she was 18. You had nothing back then – your family was dirt poor. But Chloe didn’t care. She even fought with me over you. “Later on, it was Chloe’s idea to break up with you to motivate you to improve yourself. That’s the only reason you’re successful now. Don’t look at me like that – don’t think Chloe came back to you just because you’re doing well now. With her looks and job, she could have any man she wanted. She had plenty of suitors who were more successful than you. “She’s always put you first, and this is how you repay her… Is that homewrecker still chasing after you? Let me tell you, she only wants your money. If you were broke, do you think she’d give you a second glance? “Chloe went through so much to have your babies. Do you know how many injections she had to take for the IVF treatments? And now you won’t even touch her? How can you live with yourself?” My mom went on and on. Alex didn’t say a word, but his demeanor became much more subdued. The next morning, Alex got up early to make breakfast. He hadn’t cooked in ages. The table was laden with all my mom’s favorite dishes – a clear peace offering. Seeing my mom’s blood pressure still dangerously high, I swallowed my anger and resentment. For the next few days, Alex was the model husband and son-in-law. He came home on time every day to cook dinner. He helped clean the house and take care of the babies so my mom could rest. After the kids were asleep, he’d sit at his computer to finish up work from the day. I wanted to find a good time to have a real conversation with him. Maybe what he’d said that night was just spoken in anger. But before I got the chance, disaster struck. My mom got up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night and suffered a massive stroke. By the time we got her to the hospital, the doctors told us to prepare for the worst. She passed away before we could even get her back home. She never got to see my dad one last time. I was devastated and consumed with guilt. My mom had died from the stress of helping care for my children. Throughout the entire funeral, I could barely stand up straight from sobbing. They say true character is revealed in times of crisis. Despite our recent conflict, Alex really stepped up when my family needed him most. He handled all the funeral arrangements. Since I only have one sister and no brothers, Alex took on the traditional son’s duties – carrying the casket, holding the memorial banner, coordinating with guests, looking after my dad… All the neighbors commented on what a good son-in-law my mom had found. After we laid my mom to rest, I felt a huge weight lift despite my grief. Alex and I may have lost our passion, but it was clear he still cared for me deeply. Melody was no real threat to our marriage after all. Alex I’m Alex Chen. Pathetic Alex Chen. The day Chloe dumped me, I left our apartment like a stray dog being kicked to the curb. Years of love and memories reduced to a single suitcase. I boarded a bus, clutching that suitcase, with no idea where to go. I rode it to the end of the line, then got on the return trip. Back and forth. I spent that entire afternoon aimlessly crisscrossing the city on the Number 25 bus. Until 10 PM when service ended for the night. Standing alone at the bus stop, I broke down sobbing like a lost child. I knew I wasn’t good enough for her. I knew her mom was putting pressure on her to settle down. So I’d tried talking to her mom directly, behind Chloe’s back. Her mom called me a worthless bum. A penniless loser. I understood her desire to see her daughter with someone better. But they wouldn’t even give me a chance to prove myself. I told them I was helping develop a new game at work. They assumed it was just an excuse to play video games all day. Even so, I wanted to win Chloe back. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing the girl I’d dreamed of a future with. So I crashed at a friend’s place and tried everything I could think of to contact her. But she seemed too busy to care. Too busy to even be heartbroken over our breakup. During that time, I was in agony. I lost over 40 pounds. My mom was worried sick. She started working a second job after her regular shift, trying to save up money to help me buy a house someday. She even went behind my back to talk to Chloe’s mom. My mom said they could not only help with the down payment, but chip in for the mortgage payments too. Chloe’s mom asked, “What about a car?” My mom said they were getting older, so they could sell their house when the time came to buy me a car. What Chloe’s mom said next, I’ll never forget as long as I live: “So we have to wait until you’re dead to free up money for a car? That could be decades from now. If you can’t give up your life to buy your son a car right this second, don’t waste my time. My daughter can have any man she wants. She’s got a rich guy pursuing her right now. Tell your son to stop pathetically chasing after her and getting in her way.” My mom came home that day and collapsed from stress. She never recovered. Less than two months later, she fell into a hepatic coma and passed away. I couldn’t blame anyone but myself. My own inadequacy had killed my mother. My mom’s death made me give up on Chloe completely. I met Melody at my mom’s funeral. She worked at the crematorium but had an unusually upbeat personality. At first, I was drawn to her because of her resemblance to Chloe. But soon I found myself genuinely attracted to her character. Melody was adamantly against marriage. She had a carefree attitude that set her apart from most people. She had a healthy perspective on life and death, and a clear-eyed view of the world. On the surface she seemed flippant, but she was actually quite philosophical. With Melody’s encouragement, I threw myself into my passion for gaming. The project I was working on became a huge success. I’d finally found my path in life. Just as Melody and I had started dating, Chloe came back. She knew exactly how to manipulate me. She cried about how much she’d missed me. She knew just what to say to tug at my heartstrings. She even claimed breaking up with me was all part of a plan to motivate me to improve myself. It was absurd. But I softened anyway. I felt a twinge of sympathy for her, but I never intended to leave Melody. Until Chloe’s mom got involved again. I have to admit, the old woman was crafty. Before approaching me, she went to Melody first. When we met, she played me a recording of her conversation with Melody. She had told Melody our whole history, even playing her recordings of me begging Chloe to take me back after our breakup. She even had a recording of my mom pleading with her. I knew Melody wasn’t the type to be easily manipulated. But I’d forgotten one crucial thing: Melody was a free spirit who hated complications. After Melody refused to break up with me, Chloe’s mom showed up at the crematorium where she worked. She caused a huge scene, screaming that Melody was a homewrecker who had destroyed her daughter’s relationship. Just as Melody was about to call security, Chloe’s mom suddenly changed tack. She apologized profusely, claiming she’d mistaken Melody for someone else. Then she whispered, “If you don’t break up with him, next time I won’t pretend it was a mistake. I’ll keep harassing you, and my daughter will keep chasing after Alex. Your life will become a living hell. You’ll end up breaking up with him anyway.” Melody’s feelings for me weren’t deep enough yet to weather that kind of storm. So she let me go with her typical nonchalance. But she got in one last jab at the old woman: “Now that I’m voluntarily stepping aside, I’ll always be the one that got away – the unattainable ideal in Alex’s heart. Your daughter will forever live in my shadow.” Listening to the recording of Melody’s carefree voice, I felt the happiness I’d grasped slipping through my fingers once again. My mind went blank. I stared at Chloe’s mom, my face expressionless. The hatred I’d been suppressing exploded silently inside me. My mother’s death, all the times I’d swallowed my pride and anger – I wanted to settle those accounts one by one. Since they’d handed me this opportunity on a silver platter, it would be rude not to take advantage. I pretended to gradually give in to Chloe and her mother’s relentless pressure. Then I agreed to marry Chloe, as if it were the natural progression of events. After we were married, Chloe initiated intimacy a few times, then started bringing up whose name should be on the house deed. I magnanimously offered to pay for the house in full and add her name to the deed as our joint property. She wasn’t as thrilled by this as I’d expected. Her mom also made several comments about so-and-so’s husband putting the house solely in the wife’s name. And how their daughter-in-law wasn’t nearly as pretty as Chloe. I went along with looking at properties but remained noncommittal about the name on the deed. We found a development we liked and were waiting for a promotional discount period. When the sale started, I conveniently had to go on a business trip. The mother-daughter duo finally lost patience. They called me repeatedly, insisting I transfer the money immediately before the discounted price expired. I knew exactly what they were up to, but I sent the money anyway. Sure enough, they bought a finished property and rushed to get the deed processed as quickly as possible – with only Chloe’s name on it. When I returned from my “business trip,” I didn’t say much. I just quietly saved the bank transfer records. Later, Chloe’s mom started pushing for me to get a new car. So they persuaded me to sell my car. Once again, I was conveniently out of town when they bought the new one – registered solely in Chloe’s name. We only got officially married after all this was settled. The house and car were now considered Chloe’s premarital assets. Before the wedding, I met up with Melody one last time. She smiled as she tried to comfort me: “Don’t be sad. If you’d stayed with me, you might never have gotten married or had kids. I’d rather be the one that got away than a constant thorn in your side.” I asked if she’d regret never marrying or leaving anything behind after she was gone. She said she planned to donate her eggs, so she wouldn’t leave nothing behind. After that conversation, I had some new things to consider. I approached the wedding with an unexpected sense of anticipation. It wasn’t until over a year into our marriage that Chloe realized the gravity of our situation. She said she wanted to get checked out at the hospital. Figure out why she wasn’t getting pregnant yet. Her mom was anxious too. She said Chloe shouldn’t go alone – what if I was the one with fertility issues? She ranted about how some seemingly healthy men turn out to have problems in that department. How they trick women into marrying them without disclosing their condition. How those men should be forced to pay compensation for the deception. And so, amidst her mother’s pointed comments, we embarked on a long journey of fertility treatments. Neither of us had any medical issues, yet Chloe still couldn’t conceive. I admit I was secretly sabotaging our efforts. But maybe it was also fate. Finally, we turned to IVF as our last resort. My real show was about to begin. Everything proceeded according to my plan. I was just waiting for the right moment to unleash my pent-up, almost maniacal resentment. That night, before Chloe got up to feed the babies, I snuck into the bathroom early. I turned the water on full blast – loud enough to draw her attention. She came in, about to embrace me. I quickly pulled up a photo of Melody on my phone, deliberately angling it so Chloe would see. When she raised her hand to slap me, I let go of my last shred of sympathy for her. I told her that even during our IVF treatments, I’d used Melody’s photos to “produce my samples.” I knew she couldn’t handle that kind of shock. Sure enough, she came out and started a huge fight with me. Predictably, it woke up her mom. And just as predictably, her mom’s blood pressure spiked dangerously. Right on cue, I played the role of the remorseful son-in-law who’d been manipulated. I showed my contrition through actions. Every day, I cooked meals catered to her mom’s tastes. I prepared a variety of dishes. But they all had one thing in common: High sodium. High salt. High calorie. The kind of food that causes constipation. I insisted on doing all the housework so her mom would rest as much as possible after meals. When she sat on the sofa after dinner, legs crossed, snacking on sunflower seeds and watching TV, I’d bring her more snacks. Within days, she suffered a massive stroke. She died on the toilet, straining to have a bowel movement. … Cruel, wasn’t it? After the funeral, I asked my reflection in the mirror. The face staring back at me twisted into a grotesque expression. “No,” it said. “The real show is just beginning…”
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