I shouted, "Jared! what the hell is going on?"
In this matter, Jared felt a bit guilty, but men will always be men—they'll never admit their mistakes.
They only know how to shift the blame.
"Gabrielle, how long are you planning to keep this up?"
"Look, since you got back, have you stayed quiet for even a minute?"
"You hit Yvonne, and you still haven't apologized, and you're still causing a scene?"
"If you hadn't come back early without a word, I would have already sorted this out tomorrow."
Beside him, Yvonne, with the two slaps still visible on her face, cried, "Jared, talk to Gabrielle properly. Don't let us argue over me."
She hugged that little brat and cried, "It's all my fault. I've lost my memory, I don't remember anything."
"I only remember you."
I couldn't help but click my tongue as I watched her put on a show.
"Yvonne, if you've forgotten everything, how is it that you remember you've got a little bastard?" I sneered at the kid.
Hearing me insult the kid, Jared shouted angrily, "Gabrielle, I've been patient with you, but you're going too far."
I sneered, "You're so worked up—could this be your kid?"
Jared's face turned as red as a liver, but he couldn't say a word.
I grabbed my flower scissors from the balcony and, in one swift motion, cut through a woolen coat in the wardrobe.
Without a word, she grabbed a designer bag and got ready to continue cutting.
Yvonne dropped her act and lunged at me, snatching the bag from my hands, shouting, "Gabrielle, do you know how much this bag costs?"
"If you cut it, can you afford to replace it?"
I mocked her with a laugh, pulling over another piece of her clothing and, snip—snip—cutting and tearing as I went, "Yvonne, I think you're confused."
"This house is rented by me, and I pay the rent every month."
"In other words, this is my room, my wardrobe, and I can cut whatever I want."
"If we're talking about compensation, maybe you, the intruder in my room, should be the one to consider paying?"
"Isn't everything in my wardrobe mine?" I brandished the scissors, laughing madly at Yvonne.
Jared looked awful, and so did Yvonne.
Finally, under my forceful demands, Yvonne wiped her tears and moved her things into the guest room next door.
Jared bustled around, playing the good mediator.
When I saw he was almost finished, I immediately called out, "Jared, change the bedsheets in the room." His face twisted in anger, and he coldly retorted, "Gabrielle, don't push it."
"Change them or not?" I asked directly.
Jared took the blankets out of the wardrobe, slammed the door to my room shut, and then, shockingly, pulled me into an embrace.
He got right up close to me, his face dangerously near mine.
But all I could smell were a mix of unpleasant odors—grease, cigarette smoke, Yvonne's perfume, and a sweet sugary scent...
It was sickening.
Suddenly, I remembered a saying I had read online: "Women need to be tamed!" Was he actually trying to force himself on me in this moment?
I slapped him hard across the face, pointing at him as I cursed, "Jared, don't make me lose all respect for you."
"What's the matter? Didn't you satisfy your little sweetheart after three whole days and nights together?"
"Don't make me see you like this again. Watch it or I'll stab you to death." I was acting like a jealous wife, burning with bitter jealousy, the kind that could be ruthless and deadly.
Sure enough, Jared assumed I was just throwing a tantrum because I was jealous.
So, while continuing to pack, he said, "Gabrielle, don't act like this. Yvonne is pitiful."
"You should apologize to her later."
"By the way, when did you start using foul language?"
"And why are you always grabbing scissors?"
"By the way, transfer some money to me later—don't need to send much, just give me ten thousand for now." I sat on the windowsill, blankly watching him talk to himself. When he got to this point, I finally asked, "What do you need the money for?"
