I Don’t Love You Anymore

I Don’t Love You Anymore I purposefully left the door open, ensuring my husband heard every single sound of me and my lover making love all night. The next morning, his eyes were bloodshot as he pinned me against the bed, demanding: “How many times did he satisfy you last night? Did he make you feel good? Why not me?” But I just tugged my bathrobe tighter over the angry red marks blossoming all over my body and shot back: “We’re just playing by our own rules now. Has your little nurse stopped satisfying you?” Daniel Blackwood’s gaze blazed red, but he couldn’t find a single word to refute me. The moment he caused our daughter’s death, our love story was over. I drove alone in the biting cold wind to the cemetery on the outskirts, searching for our daughter. As I passed the old site of the small clinic my dad used to own, tears streamed down my face. I had once been the youngest associate professor at the medical academy, but I’d given up the chance to study at a top-tier institution for my husband, Daniel Blackwood. That year, he was ambushed by a patient’s family after a malpractice suit, almost beaten to death. It was my dad who bit the bullet, selling the clinic he’d run for thirty years and draining his entire life’s savings just to pull him out of that legal mess. To help him establish himself in the hospital, my dad handed over his invaluable surgical notes and his entire network of professional contacts. He even sacrificed himself by self-testing an experimental drug, which caused acute liver failure, and he never recovered. That’s how Daniel Blackwood became the youngest chief surgeon in the city. I once naively believed that such a profound debt of gratitude would tie him to me for life. But everything changed the day he brought that nurse, Chloe Sterling, home. The Daniel Blackwood who once agonized over my slightest frown, tore my heart into a million pieces with his own hands. I’ll never forget it. My mother was in the late stages of lung cancer and needed a crucial imported targeted medication. To make Chloe Sterling happy, Daniel gave the drug to her purebred Ragdoll cat, which only had a skin condition. And I’ll never forget the day our daughter stopped breathing. Daniel Blackwood was in Chloe Sterling’s hospital room, intimately entangled with her. I found my daughter’s small niche in the cheapest public columbarium. A space no bigger than my palm, not even a photograph was placed there. Night fell, and I sat on the cold floor tiles. Just like I used to sing her to sleep, I hummed “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” all night, her favorite song. The next morning, I was jolted awake by a cacophony of shouting and cursing. Opening my eyes, I saw a crowd of neighbors from our community surrounding me, all filming with their phones: “That’s her! Mr. Blackwood’s crazy wife!” “Miss Sterling said she went insane last night and trashed our entire community garden!” “Those flowers and plants were just planted by the property management, they cost tens of thousands!” “Such a venomous woman! No wonder Mr. Blackwood locked her up!” Daniel Blackwood emerged from the crowd. His face was filled with a look of deep sorrow: “Neighbors, I apologize for not handling my family matters better. My wife, due to some misunderstandings, has suffered a mental breakdown, which led her to do this. I will cover all losses, please don’t blame her.” His words instantly cemented my reputation as a “lunatic.” I stared at the man I had loved with all my heart for so many years, shaking with fury: “Daniel Blackwood, you’re lying! I never left the cemetery last night!” “Still trying to deny it!” A security guard held up his phone. “The surveillance camera caught a woman’s back, and she was wearing exactly what you have on!” “This crazy woman is bad luck, and her daughter’s grave is bad luck too!” “Throw out the urn! Don’t let it dirty our cemetery!” I lunged forward to stop them, but several men held me down firmly. My face pressed against the cold floor tiles, tears mixing with dust, blurring my vision. All I could manage were guttural screams. They pried open the small niche and pulled out the black urn. I struggled desperately, and the urn crashed to the ground with a sickening thud. The lid flew open, and the grayish-white ashes scattered across the floor. A gust of wind blew through, stirring up a cloud of dust. I watched, helpless, as my daughter’s last trace in this world simply vanished. The crowd dispersed, muttering curses. Daniel Blackwood slowly walked over. He looked at me with complex emotions: “Sarah, you’ve always been so strong… It’s just a place for ashes. I’ll buy a better burial plot later…” “You know, Chloe Sterling has been pampered since childhood and has never suffered any grievances. What you did yesterday, sprinkling medication ash into her bowl, was truly too much.” I gritted my teeth, every word tinged with blood: “My daughter only had these ashes left in this world.” “I understand,” he sighed. “But if I don’t appease Chloe Sterling like this, what if her depression acts up? What if it affects the baby she’s carrying? Sarah, you should understand my difficulties.” He paused, his voice softening slightly: “Sarah, you need to be strong.”

Strong? What a cruel joke! My dad died of liver failure after participating in clinical trials to help Daniel develop a new drug. To spare Daniel any guilt, I forced myself to handle my father’s funeral arrangements alone, not shedding a single tear. My mother had late-stage lung cancer, and he gave the only imported life-extending medication to Chloe Sterling’s cat. Before my mother passed, she held my hand and said: “Daniel Blackwood… he probably has his difficulties, don’t resent him…” My throat tightened, tears welled in my eyes. But I forced them back. Yet all this pain I endured, the grievances I swallowed, the tears I held back— In his eyes, they became reasons for me to be “strong”? I laughed, my body shaking: “Daniel Blackwood, is Chloe Sterling’s mood more important than my daughter’s ashes?” “Can’t you be so petty? She didn’t mean it.” It was always like this; I was always in the wrong. It was the same before; I merely pointed out that she was prescribing the wrong medication to a patient. In her enraged fury, Daniel Blackwood locked me in the basement for a whole year. “Sarah, it’s been a year. Have you thought things through?” When Daniel Blackwood reopened the basement door, the light streaming in from outside stung my eyes. Chloe Sterling, visibly pregnant, walked over, feigning concern to help me up: “Be careful, Sarah. It’s damp down here, don’t fall.” Fall? I almost laughed. A year ago, the day I was locked in, our daughter had just taken her last breath. I knelt, grabbing Daniel Blackwood’s pant leg, my forehead bleeding from hitting the floor: “Please, save Lily! I swear I’ll never touch Chloe Sterling again!” He looked down at me, his eyes as cold as a surgical blade: “Sarah, you’re sick. How could Chloe Sterling harm a child? You’re the one losing your mind.” He embraced a trembling Chloe Sterling, his voice sickeningly tender: “Don’t be afraid. I’ve locked her up; no one will hurt you again.” Seeing a tenderness in his eyes I had never experienced, the blood in my veins ran cold. “Daniel Blackwood! My daughter is dead!” My reply was the *clunk* of a lock. To get out sooner and bury my daughter, I remained quiet, no tears, no tantrums. But by the time my daughter’s body began to decompose in the hospital morgue, Chloe Sterling, while I was asleep, had someone send the body directly to the crematorium. I frantically pounded on the door, my throat raw from screaming: “Daniel Blackwood! That’s your daughter! How could you let her die without a proper burial?!” My palms bled from hitting the door, and in return, rats were thrown in through the vent in the middle of the night. They bit my feet, gnawed at my fingers. I huddled in the corner, my wounds festering, my fever raging repeatedly. “Are you alright?” Chloe Sterling’s voice pulled me back to reality. I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead, looked up at Daniel Blackwood, my voice hoarse: “Where are Lily’s ashes?” No one answered. My heart sank, and I stumbled towards the children’s room on the second floor. I had decorated it myself when I was pregnant. The closer I got, the more my heart ached. But the moment I pushed open the door, I froze. The room was filled with lingerie, whips, and handcuffs. The walls were covered with nude oil paintings of Chloe Sterling. My fingers dug into the doorframe, my knuckles white. Daniel Blackwood’s footsteps approached from behind, his tone impatient: “I let you out not for you to cause a scene.” “The dead cannot be brought back to life, can’t you just move on?” “No!” I spun around and slapped him across the face. “This filthy place is your explanation to our daughter?! Daniel Blackwood, do you even deserve to be a father?!” “I’m only asking you, where are her ashes?” At the mention of our daughter, his gaze darted away. “Chloe Sterling is pregnant and emotionally unstable; I just painted some pictures to cheer her up…” “She’s suffering from prenatal depression, I couldn’t help it.” “Couldn’t help it?” When Chloe Sterling moved into my house, and neighbors pointed fingers at me, he pretended not to see—he couldn’t help it. When Chloe Sterling put peanuts, to which I’m severely allergic, in my soup, and I went into anaphylactic shock, he didn’t bat an eye—he couldn’t help it. When Chloe Sterling caused our daughter’s death, he protected her—he couldn’t help it. I laughed, tears streaming down my face: “All these ‘couldn’t help it’ moments have nearly cost me my life.” I rushed into the room, grabbed a paint can, and hurled it at the paintings. “Sarah Moore, have you gone mad?! What did Chloe Sterling ever do to you?!” Daniel Blackwood grabbed my wrist but suddenly froze. Beneath my sleeve, my arms were covered in festering wounds. “You… How did you get these? I explicitly ordered them to send you food every day, to take good care of you…” “I’m doing just fine.” “You can just kneel here. When you’ve reflected enough, then you can come back.” Daniel Blackwood’s cold voice brought me back to reality, and I pursed my lips, unable to utter a single word.

I knelt on the ground, my forehead pressed against my daughter’s tiny tombstone, sobbing inconsolably. “Sarah looks so pitiful like this.” Chloe Sterling’s voice drifted from behind me. “Even after all this, why won’t she be sensible and just get a divorce and leave?” She stood before me, her pregnant belly prominent, exuding the air of a victor: “But you know, everything you’re experiencing today, I planned it all, step by step.” She crouched down, leaned close to my ear, her voice laced with a smile: “I personally dragged your daughter out of the morgue and threw her into that stray dog den on the west side of town.” “I watched those dogs… tear her apart bit by bit, it was truly satisfying.” She paused, her tone laced with a hint of cruel pride: “Do you know how Daniel treated me when I came home that night, covered in the smell of blood?” “He held me… and took me all night.” “You bastard! You bitch!” I shrieked, scrambling to my feet, my hands clamping tightly around her throat. I was going to kill her! Avenge my daughter! Chloe Sterling’s face turned crimson, but she was still laughing: “Serves you right… Hahaha…” She found a nearby shovel handle and brought it down hard on my back. The searing pain made my vision go black. After more than a year of torment, my body was already broken. I collapsed to the ground like a rag doll, unable to move. I don’t know how much time passed, but then she crouched down again, dangling something in her hand. A soft *clinking* sound. My pupils contracted sharply— It was the string of golden pearls. Three years ago, before Daniel Blackwood’s heart surgery, I had flown to the Philippines, almost dying in the deep sea to collect them. Every single pearl was polished by my own hands. Chloe Sterling laughed mockingly: “Do you remember these? Actually, I should thank you for these pearls.” “Daniel loves to play with them in bed… one by one, he slowly inserted them…” “He said that way, he could feel your intentions.” The genuine affection I’d risked my life to acquire now felt like countless poisoned boomerangs piercing my heart. My chest tightened with a sharp pang, and nausea spread throughout my entire body. “Get out! Chloe Sterling, get out!” Her eyes were icy, her words venomous and vicious. “Sarah Moore, you deserve to die!” My vision swam, and I collapsed.

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