I thought a man with “three legs” was too much trouble, so I married a “two-legged” husband instead. My husband was impotent and had a volatile temper. He was cold and heartless to everyone else, but gentle only to me. I was the only one who could soothe his irritable moods. I thought we were the perfect platonic couple. Until a week before our wedding, I discovered he had been keeping an 18-year-old girl on the side. The girl came to me with a list of hotel check-ins and a stack of condom receipts. 99 check-ins, 693 condoms. “Sister, you must know how strong and powerful my darling’s ‘third leg’ is, right?” she smirked. “The unloved one is the mistress. Evelyn, my darling can’t even get it up for you, can he?” I looked across the table at this young girl with a ponytail, wearing a pure white dress. She looked exactly like me when I was eighteen. I lit a cigarette and took a drag, feeling a sharp pain in my lungs. The girl kept chattering away. “It’s too sad to marry someone who doesn’t love you, Evelyn. You should find someone who loves you. That’s the only way you’ll be happy in the future.” I slowly exhaled, forming a smoke ring. Listening to her words, I couldn’t help but laugh. The girl’s expression crumbled a bit. “What are you laughing at?” “Evelyn, your fiancé told me he loves me in your marital home. Shouldn’t you be reflecting on yourself instead of laughing? Don’t you believe that with just one phone call, my darling will do anything for me?” I laughed so hard tears came to my eyes. I couldn’t help coughing a couple of times before saying, “I believe you.” I stubbed out my cigarette and looked at the girl. “Derek doesn’t know you came to see me, does he?” The girl froze, a flash of embarrassment crossing her face. I was already thirty years old. Teenage girls wear their thoughts on their faces. However, she only paused for a second before speaking, “Even if he knew, he wouldn’t do anything to me.” Saying this, she seemed to call Derek out of spite. Hearing the ringing tone, I felt a glimmer of anticipation in my heart. When the call connected, the girl began speaking coquettishly, “Darling, do you love Evelyn?” Derek replied almost without hesitation: “I love her.” My heart sank, but he continued, “Or at least I used to. Now I love you the most.” The girl asked sweetly, “If I got into a fight with Evelyn, whose side would you take?” The voice on the other end of the phone was full of indulgence: “Yours, of course, my little princess. But you’ll have to help me out tonight too.” I gripped my cup tightly, my face expressionless.
From a young age, I lived with my grandmother in a dilapidated, unfinished building. My mother ran off with someone else, complaining about our poverty. My father went to work on ships to earn money for my grandmother and me. He disappeared on his second trip out. His death benefits barely supported my grandmother and me. I was always either studying or working part-time jobs. The day I met Derek, I was being mugged by some thugs. He appeared like a guardian angel, but even he couldn’t fight off so many attackers alone. Derek was kicked in the groin. Fortunately, the police arrived in time, but I still found out about his… functional impairment. From then on, my goal of working hard to provide for my grandmother gained another purpose: To repay Derek, and to seek revenge for both of us against those who had attacked us. But I never expected those people to come directly to my home. My grandmother was pushed while trying to protect me, and she became paralyzed. It was Derek who appeared again to save me. He helped me take my grandmother to the hospital and paid for her hospitalization and medical expenses. He even hired a caregiver to look after my grandmother so I could focus on my studies. Unfortunately, despite the enormous amount of money that I couldn’t repay, my grandmother still died in the hospital. Before she passed away, she said that Derek was a good person, but we shouldn’t take his kindness for granted. The hospitalization costs must be repaid. After burying my grandmother, I became Derek’s assistant. I worked for Derek, keeping only $500 for living expenses and sending the rest to him to repay the debt. I also learned self-defense for free, partly to prevent being attacked again, and partly to take on the job of Derek’s bodyguard. The salary from that job also went straight into Derek’s account to repay the debt. Secondly, I had to avenge my grandmother. As I got busier, the little white dress I used to love became a hindrance. I took off the dress, and to make my bright appearance look more intimidating, I had my entire back tattooed with a dark pattern. Two years passed. I got my revenge, and the debt was cleared. But no matter what treatment method was tried, Derek’s “third leg” remained useless. He became a man with the tool but unable to use it. I stayed by his side like I was atoning for a sin, ready to do whatever he asked. It wasn’t until he confessed his feelings to me that I realized it wasn’t atonement – I loved him. I had been with Derek for eleven years, from a loyal subordinate to a girlfriend, and then to a loving fiancée. With my assistance, he became an underworld kingpin in the city. Our life was peaceful. Although Derek couldn’t use his “tool,” he liked to hold me in bed at night. He would press my head against his chest and repeatedly stroke my hair that never seemed to recover from its dryness. “Evelyn, I still prefer how you used to be.” I always answered him, “Isn’t this still me?” It wasn’t until this 18-year-old girl showed up that I realized what he meant. The “me” he was referring to was the one who hadn’t taken off the little white dress for him. The one who couldn’t escape poverty and needed him to shelter her from the wind and rain. Now, this me who shielded him from the bloody storms of the underworld, who was called “Big Sister” by a group of subordinates – he didn’t like this version of me. I always believed what my grandmother said, that Derek was a good person. But this good person’s affection had stopped at my 18-year-old self.
After parting ways with the young girl, I went to inspect the port before heading home. But I ran into Derek, who was just about to leave. He saw me and frowned, “Why are you back so late?” I sidestepped him and said, “I had some business to take care of.” Derek nodded, not asking further, “I need to go to the port to receive a shipment. I won’t be back tonight.” “Be good at home, honey.” He leaned in to kiss me but stopped at arm’s length. “Why do you smell so strongly of cigarettes?” “Didn’t I tell you to smoke less?” The man’s furrowed brow and expression showed a hint of disgust. Looking at his reaction, I remembered the young girl’s smug smile earlier: “Sister, Derek loves the milky scent on me.” I suddenly felt a bitterness in my heart. But wasn’t it you, Derek, who gave me my first cigarette? Standing in the darkness, I forced a smile, “Derek, why don’t we break up?” Derek’s face changed instantly. “Evelyn, are you going through menopause or something? What kind of nonsense is this?” “Break up? Who else would want a wife like you who smokes, drinks, and has tattoos?” “Look in the mirror. Do you still think you’re eighteen?” As he was berating me, his phone rang. He picked it up, glanced at the screen irritably, but didn’t hang up. Instead, he muted it. Then he impatiently tossed a sentence at me: “The port is urging me. Stop having these ridiculous thoughts. Be good and don’t give me trouble.” I remained silent, watching him leave. Only when Derek’s figure had completely disappeared did I lean against the wall and start vomiting. Seeing the streaks of blood in the vomit, I laughed bitterly. I had just come back from the port. How could I not know whether there was a shipment tonight?
Back in my room, as if possessed, I opened my tablet. Looking at the surveillance software on it, I hesitated. When we were renovating our marital home, I was afraid of being cheated by the workers, so I installed hidden cameras in every corner of the house. It was originally for monitoring the construction. Involuntarily, I opened the software. The quiet scene made me breathe a sigh of relief. But before I could close it, the sound of a door opening came through the monitor. Derek and the young girl in a school uniform urgently entered, kissing passionately. My gaze involuntarily fell on Derek’s “tool” that he said couldn’t be used. Although it was partially blocked by the girl’s body, in the moments when they were frantically removing each other’s clothes, I saw Derek’s erect, engorged state. The two had only half undressed before they urgently began their primal dance. I felt a lump in my throat and almost couldn’t breathe. Covering my mouth, I coughed more severely. But my eyes were glued to the tablet, unable to look away. “Baby, you smell so good. Not like my wife, she reeks of cigarettes.” “Derek, when are you going to come clean with her? I can’t satisfy you all by myself.” “What’s the rush? Don’t you think a 30-year-old virgin is more fun to play with?” “…” My chest ached sharply. Even though I had already decided to give up on this relationship when the young girl came to see me, seeing these scenes still made my tears fall uncontrollably. On the screen, the two had already started another round. They were on the sofa I chose, the carpet, the bed, in the bathroom… Derek held the young girl again and again. “Derek, do you love me?” “I love you to death, my dear Aria.” “Then can you not touch that old woman after you’re married?” Derek responded with actions: “I won’t touch her, it’s all for you…” I remember when Derek and I first confirmed our relationship, he asked if I would mind not having a sex life in the future. I said I wouldn’t. I was even afraid he might feel insecure, so I never held his hand or initiated kisses. I was afraid of hurting his pride. On so many nights, he would hold me, crying, saying, “Evelyn, I really want to have you. I only want you.” I had tried various degrading ways to help him get aroused. But it was all in vain. And now. The young girl in his arms only needed one kiss, and he was ready for action, again and again. I hugged the tablet. They went at it all night. And I watched all night. Until dawn, when the two fell asleep on my marriage bed. Only then did I close the tablet, my eyes sore and my heart in too much pain to breathe.
When I woke up again, Mrs. Wilson was standing by my bed, looking anxious and apologetic. “Ma’am, you’re awake? I’ve called Mr. Song many times, but I assume he must be busy.” I nodded, and suddenly a familiar figure appeared at the door – it was my attending physician. I found an excuse to send Mrs. Wilson away. “Miss Evelyn, have you still not quit smoking?” “Do you know you could die like this? You’re at risk of suffocation at any moment.” After a long silence, I suddenly spoke up. “Dr. Thompson, I don’t want to suffocate to death.” I’ve heard that in the final stages of lung cancer, people die from suffocation. Dr. Thompson was taken aback, then took a deep breath. “I have a friend at a hospital in the Netherlands. If you’re willing, I can help you with the paperwork for…” Just then, Mrs. Wilson suddenly ran over with a phone. “Ma’am, Mr. Song is calling.” She handed me the phone. I hesitated for a moment before answering. But a woman’s voice came from the other end. “Hello? Who are you? Why do you keep calling my husband?” I recognized this voice all too well. It belonged to the girl who had met me at the cafe yesterday and then appeared on the surveillance footage. Mrs. Wilson’s expression became conflicted for a moment. Soon, the sound of an argument came from the other end of the phone. “Aria, why are you using my phone?” “Derek, someone keeps calling you! Do you have another woman?” The man laughed. “What are you talking about? You’re my only baby. This is the housekeeper’s number.” Then the man spoke into the phone, “Mrs. Wilson, is my wife throwing a tantrum again?” “Just make up some excuse. I won’t be coming home for a couple of days, I’m spending time with my baby.” Mrs. Wilson’s expression clearly showed she wanted to stop him, but Derek had already spoken. “I’ve got to go. Oh, and send over that white lace nightgown from the guest room. My baby looks good in it.” With that, Derek hung up. I glanced at Mrs. Wilson. She had been with me for ten years. As long as I had been with Derek, she had been with me. I didn’t say anything, just returned the phone to her and looked back at the doctor. “Please help me with the paperwork.”
After staying in the hospital for a day, I was discharged. I returned home to find the villa still empty and cold. Derek hadn’t come back. I looked at the tablet on the table but didn’t want to open it again. “Mrs. Wilson, please help me pack my luggage.” “Ma’am, Mr. Song, he… he still loves you in his heart, and you’re about to…” As Mrs. Wilson was speaking, my phone screen lit up. I glanced at the euthanasia application form sent by Dr. Thompson and smiled, “Mrs. Wilson, if you still have any regard for our relationship over these years, please don’t tell him about this.” Mrs. Wilson’s words caught in her throat. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I… I really have no choice.” But I had already started packing. I took out all the clothes Derek had bought for me from the wardrobe. Only then did I realize they were all in dull black and gray colors. As if in his heart, I could only wear such colors. I thought of Aria again. Her clothes, jewelry, bags, all came from Derek. But over the years, Derek had never bought me a single piece of jewelry or a bag. He would say, “What do you need those things for?” I packed them all into a large box, planning to donate them to a charity before I left. Halfway through packing, Derek came back. He saw me holding several large boxes in the living room and frowned, “What are you packing for?”
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