After pretending to be poor for three years, Julian finally decided I was worthy. He felt I was good enough to marry him. To get me to agree, he bought every billboard in South City just to apologize. Then, fireworks lit up the city for a month straight while he proposed. But in the fourth year of our marriage, he got his first young, delicate mistress. When I found out, he didn't panic. He just arrogantly put out his cigarette, looking at me with cold indifference. "Are you sure you want to make a scene? Are the bank notifications not convincing enough?" I froze for a moment, opened my mouth, but couldn't say a word. 1 It wasn't until our wedding anniversary, when that young girl walked in wearing the exact same pearl necklace as me, that I understood a simple truth: you can't live on promises. But back then, I was still naive. I tore the heavy South Sea pearl necklace from my neck. The pearls were large and lustrous. Julian's butler once told me he bid for them personally at auctions. Maybe he bid on too many. Same size, same quality, same craftsmanship. It was impossible to ignore. I threw the broken necklace into Julian's face. Pearls scattered everywhere, rolling onto the carpet. Julian's face darkened slightly, but he didn't lose his composure. He leaned back in his Italian leather chair, blowing a smoke ring casually. "Amy, are you sure you want to make a scene?" I clenched my fists, staring at his calm demeanor. Suddenly, all my strength drained away, and my heart turned to ice. The young girl was terrified by our standoff, hiding behind him like a frightened deer, tears welling up in her round eyes. He laughed at her reaction, pinching her cheek. "Look at you, so scared." I stood there, mouth opening and closing, but no sound came out. Just bitterness. His question was so certain. I had no capital to make a scene. Three years ago, when my dad was diagnosed with lung cancer, my dependence on Julian grew, and our relationship became unbalanced. After all, I relied on him for everything. He arranged the hospital, the doctors, the surgery fees, the recovery costs. Everything. Including my current comfortable life. So he didn't even bother hiding his little mistress from me. Even if I found out, what could I do? 2 I don't remember how I left the party. I only remember my legs feeling like lead, every step a struggle. The delicate student girlfriend ran after me, looking anxious. She told me not to be angry, that Julian was just joking, that I shouldn't take it seriously. Joking? She was on his arm, wearing the same necklace as his wife, at my anniversary party, and she called it a joke. I felt suffocated, hating myself for compromising. Just four years of marriage, and I was groveling under Julian's wealth and power. I didn't want to engage with her. I threw off her hand. I didn't use much force. But she fell. Her pale knees scraped against the ground, bleeding instantly. Before I could react, I was shoved hard. "Amy, are you done?" Julian helped her up tenderly. I stumbled back, stepping on the loose pearls on the carpet, and crashed into the champagne tower. The tower, as tall as a man, collapsed on top of me. My dress was soaked in golden liquid. I tried to get up, slipping on pearls and glass shards. Shards pierced my heels and knees. But Julian didn't even look back. He called for a first aid kit and gently cleaned the girl's wounds. As he led her away, he finally glanced at me. "Can you stop embarrassing yourself?" I watched them leave, him supporting her with his body, protecting her as if she were made of glass. One of his friends pulled me up, lecturing me. "Sister-in-law, men need face. You were too undignified today." I scoffed at his self-righteousness. "Get lost." "Pah! Ungrateful woman! Look at your age! Still acting like a princess? See who cares about you now." Acting like a princess? They thought I was just acting like a princess back then. 3 Four years ago, when I found out Julian had been pretending to be poor, I felt humiliated. I insisted on breaking up. His friends came to persuade me then, too. "Amy, have some pity! He hasn't eaten in days. If you ignore him, he'll die." "Amy, we've never seen Julian this serious about a woman. Everyone has defenses. Just pretend your boyfriend won the lottery!" Julian had money and power, and his friends were his lobbyists. He permeated every part of my life, turning it upside down. I ignored him, but everywhere I went, LED billboards played his apologies. "Amy, it's all my mistake..." "Amy, please see me again!" "How much to buy back my girlfriend's forgiveness?" ... One billboard cost more than my monthly salary. It seemed sincere, but I kept remembering the three years he watched me struggle. He said he was poor, with only a mother, and wanted to study. To make ends meet, I often worked two jobs. At my worst, I was laid off and delivered food after hours. For his birthday, I delivered food for a month to buy him a new laptop. There were nights of torrential rain. I was thrown off my scooter, nearly washed into a storm drain. I limped home, only to hear him discussing with his friends how to reveal the "surprise" to me. I stood at the door, frozen, and dropped the laptop. 4 My poor boyfriend was one of the richest men in the city. The laptop I risked my life for wasn't even worth one of his meals. It was absurd. Rich people have so many ways to have fun. Why play with ordinary people's feelings? The details I had ignored came flooding back. No wonder he was poor but picky about food. No wonder he didn't know how to use my cheap water heater. No wonder he couldn't relate to my complaints about rent and prices. I was blind. 5 He apologized a thousand times. But I heard something else. "You did well. You passed my test. Now I reward you by letting you be with me. Aren't you happy?" I hit him, bit him, kicked him, threw the laptop at him. He protected the laptop and fell down the stairs. He held the computer like a treasure, looking at me pitifully. "Amy, I'm sorry..." I didn't want to forgive him. My bruises still hurt. He said he loved me, couldn't leave me. Then how could he watch me suffer? How could he use my struggle as a metric for his test? Three years! We slept in the same bed for three years. How can you play with a person like that? I ignored him for months. He bought my apartment building. I was ready to leave the city. But then, an accident happened. Before I could resign, Julian's friends found me. They said Julian, heartbroken by my refusal, agreed to go abroad for his mother. He was on a flight last night. And that flight crashed. I watched the news, mind blank. I never thought he would die. We were together for three years. Even at his "poorest," I never thought of leaving him. How could I not love him? I just couldn't accept the deception. I rushed to the airport, watching families waiting anxiously. My legs gave out. I squatted in the hall, crying. That's when Julian appeared. He wiped my tears, voice trembling. "Amy... do you still want me?" I looked up. His eyes were burning. He pulled me into a tight hug. "I didn't get on the plane, Amy. I couldn't leave you." "Amy, give me another chance?" "Amy, do I have to die for you to look at me again?" 6 Like the suspension bridge effect, people forgive easily in the face of death. He proposed, lighting up the city with fireworks for a month. The first year or two of marriage were happy. He was a model husband, home by ten every night. "Sorry, gotta go home. The wife is strict." "No more drinks, the wife will get mad." When did it change? The economic gap, especially after my dad got sick, made me dependent on him like a vine. When one person knows the other can't leave, humanity is tested. Dad's cancer was advanced. The imported drugs were astronomical for me. I relied on Julian. Before marriage, I had a good job. Julian didn't stop me at first. But after Dad got sick: "Mrs. Sterling working for peanuts? It's embarrassing." I felt uncomfortable but submitted, handing in my resignation. Leaving the Sterling villa, I went to the hospital. Dad was suffering from side effects. Rash, pneumonia. I heard him coughing from the hallway. When I entered, he held it in, looking at me. I felt a pang of sorrow seeing him so frail. I had changed clothes, but the cuts on my knees and arms still hurt. Dad noticed immediately. "Amy, what happened?" "Nothing, just fell." He pulled up my sleeve, revealing the cuts. "How did you fall like this?" "Tripped on gravel." Dad sighed, pulling out ointment. "Still so clumsy." I was afraid to speak, afraid he'd sense something wrong. But he knew. "Amy, are you hiding something? Is Julian treating you well?" "Yes! You know how much effort he put into marrying me." "Amy, people change. Relying too much on someone leads to disrespect." "If possible, I hope you can find a job. Have your own ground to stand on." "I'm looking. Once Dad gets better, I'll work." "Amy, everyone dies. Don't be stubborn. Don't let Julian look down on you because of me." "No, Julian is good." Just then, the hospital TV flashed news about Julian. Fireworks again. But this time, not for me. A young girl, smiling shyly next to him. "Sterling CEO's New Love." Dad coughed violently, blood on the sheets. I panicked. He grabbed me. "Amy, what is this?"
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