Leon Oliver’s childhood Christmas playmate Sofia Wilder had gone bald from intensive chemotherapy, and my hair was just the right length to make a wig. To help my hair grow better for Sofia’s wig, he coaxed me into taking all sorts of supplements. He even used the excuse of caring for my health to make me quit my job as a doctor, all just to prevent me from losing a few strands of hair. Before I knew the truth, I would have thought Leon deeply loved me. But at 1 AM that night, I saw Sofia’s Facebook post. In the photo, though the long-haired girl looked pale, her sweet smile still shone through. The diamond ring on her hand was exactly the style I loved most. The caption read: [The wig my dearest boss gave me. He even helped make my wedding dress dream come true!] After coming to my senses, I decisively asked for a divorce. But he demanded I cut off my hair as a memento of our breakup, just so he could harvest my hair one last time for a wig. Later, he developed a rare disease. The doctors at the same hospital all thought it was such a shame. “Your wife is a rare disease specialist, but unfortunately she’s already resigned.” “In ancient times, women had to cut their hair when they divorced. Since that’s the case, let’s get divorced too.” I trembled as I touched my own uneven, choppy hair, feeling nothing but rage. Leon wiped off the lipstick stains that weren’t mine, saying impatiently: “I’ve told you this many times. Sofia lost all her hair from chemo. Little girls care about their appearance, and I don’t want her to feel self-conscious. Besides, you’re almost thirty—what’s the point of keeping such long hair?” Leon pushed a plate of black, unidentifiable paste toward my mouth. “Stop making a fuss. Drink more of this so your hair will grow faster. Sofia wants curly hair too.” I turned my head away, feeling a chill run down my spine. “I told you I don’t like drinking this.” Leon’s expression didn’t change, but his hand pushed forward more forcefully. “No, you do like it.” If this were before, I would have thought Leon deeply loved me. To nourish my hair, he’d traveled half the country searching for folk remedies, even when those concoctions made me gag. But now, my phone was displaying Sofia’s Facebook page. Though the long-haired girl looked pale, her sweet smile still shone through, and the diamond ring on her hand was exactly the style I loved most. [The wig my dearest boss gave me. He even helped make my wedding dress dream come true!] And the wedding ring on those distinct, bony fingers in the photo was the very one Leon and I had personally chosen for our wedding. The post was timestamped at 1 AM last night. That was right after I’d finished a grueling surgery without sleep, coming out with my legs shaking, wanting Leon to pick me up. But he said he was swamped with work. Leon ruffled my hair. “My good girl Jasmine, you’re always so understanding.” I felt nothing but disgust. Leon’s words reeked like a foul stench. I couldn’t hold back anymore and collapsed to the floor, dry heaving. “What’s wrong with you? You’re not pregnant, are you? Don’t you have PCOS?” Leon’s eyes showed no joy or concern, but rather a flash of tension and fear. I laughed bitterly at myself. There were so many red flags—I should have realized long ago that he didn’t love me. Seeing me shake my head in denial, Leon let out a long sigh of relief and returned to his usual gentle demeanor. “Jasmine, I’m craving the soup you make. Could you make some for me tomorrow?” I refused. “I have surgery tomorrow. I don’t have time.” “You’ll make time. I’ll pick it up from the hospital tomorrow. And also—” Leon rested his head on my lap, looking at the few strands of hair that had fallen to the floor, a flash of distress crossing his face. “Quit your job. Your hair is falling out more and more. I can’t bear to see you suffer.” I suppressed the nausea rising in my chest and said word by word: “Being a doctor is my dream.” Leon shrugged casually. “Dreams don’t matter. I love you—isn’t that enough?”
Since my colleague also wanted some, I ended up making a serving of soup for Leon anyway. But the next day during my rounds, I found that soup sitting by Sofia’s bedside. Leon had mentioned this girl to me before, though only briefly. I’d heard she quit her job after just one month to focus on her health. This wasn’t our first encounter either. Sofia lay there with a nasal cannula for oxygen, looking sickly pale. I spoke coldly: “You have a malignant tumor, so you should cut back on these soups. The mercury levels are too high.” Sofia grinned and wrapped her arm around mine. “It’s fine. I love eating fish.” She seemed to suddenly remember something. “Oh, I just remembered—Mr. Oliver is allergic to fish. We could never work together because we’d constantly clash.” Her eyes were innocent, pure, yet carried a hint of provocation. My heart jolted, as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over me from head to toe. Our first Christmas as a married couple, Leon told me he loved seafood soup most of all, so I should make it often. To learn how, I spent weeks with my fingers covered in blisters and burns from the hot water. Later, he praised me, saying my soup tasted just like his mother’s. Now I understand—it was Sofia’s mother who loved making seafood soup. Leon’s reward for my efforts was a pack of cute little bear band-aids. Why would a man buy cute little bears? And they were even delicately scented with perfume. I suddenly laughed out loud, but as I left, my heart felt heavy as lead. By evening, after going a full day without sleep, I was utterly exhausted. After calling Leon over twenty times, he finally picked up. His magnetic voice carried a slight breathlessness. “What are you doing?” “I’m out taking Sofia for tests. You know she has no family. She’s in the late stages of cancer now, so as her former supervisor, I have to take responsibility.” My pacing footsteps grew heavy. Tears gradually blurred my vision. “I haven’t eaten all day, so I’m getting hypoglycemic.” Leon’s tone took on an edge of impatience. “Just tough it out a bit longer. I’ve noticed you’ve put on weight around your waist lately, so this is a good chance to lose some.” He hung up without hesitation. When we first married, I’d struggled with body image anxiety too. Back then, Leon would hold me close, pinching my cheeks like I was precious to him. “When you gain weight, no one else will try to steal you from me. How perfect.” Coming back to reality, my phone was playing footage of Leon and Sofia chatting intimately in my marital home. “You’re not feeling well, so Jasmine won’t mind you resting at my place.” Sofia was holding the stuffed animal I’d cherished since childhood. Leon never seemed to truly listen when I spoke. Back then, I’d suggested installing security cameras, worried about burglars. But Leon just nodded dismissively. “Yeah, a password lock should keep thieves out.” To this day, he still doesn’t know we have surveillance cameras installed. A chill spread from my head to my toes. I couldn’t hold back anymore—I crouched beside the operating room and completely broke down. When Leon returned, he reeked of hospital disinfectant. “Go wash my clothes. Sofia says she likes lavender-scented detergent. You should switch to that.” This time, I didn’t move an inch. Instead, I handed him the divorce papers I’d drafted overnight. He barely glanced at them before tearing them to shreds. His eyes were full of exhaustion and irritation. “Jasmine Burke, you’re being ridiculous. Don’t act like those other women who do nothing but get jealous. I’m already exhausted, so stop putting pressure on me.” I repeated firmly: “I said I want a divorce.” Leon met my gaze defiantly, his voice suddenly rising. “And I said no. Quit that job of yours right now! You’ve been corrupted by those women. Decent women stay home as housewives and take care of their families!” Before he could finish, Sofia’s call summoned him away again.
I thought Leon was just talking off the cuff—after all, I wouldn’t give up my dreams for him. But the next day, while I was on my way to work, I suddenly received a resignation confirmation in my email. The system showed that I had fallen seriously ill, and a family member had processed the resignation on my behalf. My eyes widened as my knuckles turned white, gripping my phone. I rushed home like a madwoman and threw my phone in front of Leon. “Leon! You processed my resignation!” He was on the phone, coaxing Sofia to take her medicine. He hung up leisurely and shot me an annoyed look. “You should be learning how to take care of me properly instead of doing those meaningless jobs. Using divorce as a threat—that’s something those women at the hospital taught you, isn’t it?” Leon’s hand slowly caressed my face, but there wasn’t a trace of tenderness in his eyes. “Go to the hospital later and bring Sofia some soup. She loves the soup you make. As my wife, don’t be so petty.” I stood there numbly, everything before me turning deathly still. When it rains, it pours. That afternoon, my mother collapsed at home and was rushed to the emergency room after a neighbor found her. Mom had a rare condition—I was the only one in the entire city who could perform this surgery. But now that I’d resigned, I had no authorization to enter the operating room. I grabbed my colleague’s arm desperately, veins bulging as my lips trembled. “Please let me in. I can do this surgery. Let me go change, please?” The colleague blocking me looked helpless too. “Jasmine, it’s not that we don’t want to let you in. You know the hospital has regulations…” I screamed hysterically, my whole body shaking uncontrollably. “My mother is dying! What good are these regulations!” “Jasmine…” “Let me in! I’ll take responsibility for whatever happens! I can pay compensation, I can go to jail. Please just let me see her. I’m the only one who can save her…” Just as I finally broke through and tried to enter the operating room, the surgical lights suddenly went out. The doctor who emerged removed his mask and shook his head regretfully. “I’m sorry, Jasmine. We really did everything we could…” I couldn’t hold myself up anymore and collapsed heavily to my knees, my gaze vacant. “Mom…” My dear mother had been reminding me just days ago to always wear my mask during surgery. But that day I was rushing to work and didn’t look back. Now when I looked back, I could never see her waving at me again. My eyes were bloodshot, my heart felt like it was being crushed in a giant fist, and I couldn’t breathe. Leon arrived late. I looked at the man before me as tears streamed down my face. But what he said next completely shocked me. “Jasmine, where’s the soup I asked you to make for Sofia?” After several minutes of silence, I barely managed to find my voice. “Leon, my mother passed away.” Leon looked anxious. “I know, so where’s the soup you made for Sofia?” I stared at him in disbelief. My grief was instantly replaced by rage. “Leon! Do you have any conscience left?” But he showed no guilt whatsoever and strode away. “Jasmine, I’ve been too lenient with you.” The doctor beside me, supporting me, cautiously tried to console me: “Jasmine, your mother is still inside…” I closed my eyes in despair, feeling completely drained of strength. I could still hear the sounds of Leon and Sofia laughing and playing together echoing in my ears. Our marriage should have ended long ago. Over the next few days, Leon took Sofia out sightseeing every day. I was busy selecting a burial site for Mom. I chose a place close to nature because she had always loved the outdoors. But just as she was about to be laid to rest, the contractor suddenly changed his mind.
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