"It's fine if you deny it," I laid back on the couch, starting my performance, "I originally wanted to end this twisted relationship quickly, but you, this beast, have fallen so deeply in love with me, craving me for so long, coercing and seducing me, forcing me to compromise."
The more absurd my words became, the colder his expression grew as he passed me and walked toward the wardrobe.
"I trust myself, I wouldn't do this for you," he opened the wardrobe, "You're lying to me."
Before he could finish, a bunch of bottles and jars tumbled out of the wardrobe.
The room went silent in an instant.
What happened?
I stood up from the couch and walked over to the wardrobe.
He heard my footsteps and slammed the wardrobe door shut with force.
It was as if he had something to hide.
But a glass jar slid down to my feet.
I bent down and picked it up.
Inside the beautiful glass jar was a hair tie.
My old hair tie.
The one I mysteriously lost a long time ago.
It had been carefully preserved inside the suffocating glass jar.
"What's in the wardrobe?"
He pressed himself tightly against the wardrobe door, turning his head, his pale neck slightly flushed.
"Nothing."
His answer came quickly, as if he was eager to explain something.
I raised the glass jar in my hand. "Then what is this—?"
"Between us…" He interrupted me and changed the subject, "How long has this relationship been going on?"
I was surprised. "You believe me now?"
He wanted to step back, but there was no space left, his face stiffened: "This has to end."
Not a shred of leniency.
Then again, it was to be expected.
He was the kind of person with a very strong sense of moral boundaries, always clear about right and wrong.
Even in our loveless marriage, despite the complicated relationships around us, he had never been involved in a scandal.
"I don't know why I've continued this relationship with you, especially getting involved with people around me. That's the most shameful thing for me to do." His voice was calm and concise, "You should leave."
"You want to pretend none of this ever happened?"
He remained calm, "What compensation do you want?"
Compensation.
He would always be like this with me.
He just wanted us to have no debts to each other.
Before we got married, I had secretly hoped, after all, his name was untouchable in our circle.
With a heart full of joy, I cooked dinner and waited for him to return, picturing the expression on his face as he ate.
When I heard him open the door, the smile on my face was still there, but as soon as I looked up, I was met with his indifferent, scrutinizing expression.
He said, "No need to do anything extra."
The awkwardness hit me like a slap, and I tried to salvage it, but I couldn't find the words.
It turned out our marriage was only about interests—a choice he had to make.
I had placed myself in the wrong position.
"I don't want anything anymore."
I forced a smile. "Kendrick, that's great, we're finally done."
He was already the head of the family. As far as he was concerned, I no longer had any value to him.
He looked down at me, his eyes as still as the surface of a lake.
This was how it should be.
We come together for the sake of profit, and we part the same way.
"Who is he?" he asked.
"Who?" I looked up at him.
"Your husband," he enunciated clearly. "Who is he?"
"Does it matter to you?"
He shifted his gaze, the visible scrape on his chin showing red, as if it had been recently cut. "I'm just avoiding unnecessary risks."
"Don't worry, he doesn't know about me and you," I scratched at my nails.
"He never suspected?" he asked.
"No, I don't want to make him sad," I said nonchalantly, "After all, you and I were just playing a game."
He suddenly sneered, a harsh bitterness in his voice. "He's really dumb."
