My startup had finally taken off. I rushed home with gingerbread cookies and gifts to celebrate, only to find my wife, Mila, packing up everything we owned. The moment she saw the gingerbread in my hands, she snatched it and threw it straight into the trash. "I get sick just looking at your stupid cookies! I want a divorce!" She had no idea that the very cookies she just threw away were the hot-selling product that had made me a millionaire. When she finally found out the truth, she actually had the nerve to demand: "You became successful after you divorced me? By what right?" I smiled and replied, "Yeah. I made my fortune with the very gingerbread you despised." Regrets? Too late. After working non-stop for weeks, I finally closed deals with several major distributors today. But when I arrived at my front door, holding the signed contracts and a diamond necklace I bought for Mila, I found the house completely ransacked. The living room was a mess, and two strangers were carrying my TV out the door. My first instinct was that we were being robbed, until I saw Mila standing there, directing them. Thinking I had been too busy lately with my new gingerbread recipes and investor meetings, I asked, "Mila, what's going on? Are we moving?" Mila finally noticed me. Her eyes instantly filled with disgust and anger. "Yes, we are. But only I am moving. Because I’m divorcing you!" Since I started my business, we had been fighting constantly. She always nagged that I had no future spending all day baking cookies, and complained about the business loans I took out. Mila continued sneering: "I’m taking all the valuable appliances. At least I get some assets out of this marriage." "If I wait until your business completely crashes, I won't get a dime. I might even end up drowning in your debts." The truth was, the business loans were solely under my name and had nothing to do with her. Plus, I had been giving her my monthly salary to maintain her high standard of living. My startup was never as pathetic as she claimed, even if I wasn't rolling in cash yet. And now, on the exact day I struck gold, she wanted a divorce. Since the final contracts were just signed and the massive wire transfers hadn't cleared yet, this money would legally be my post-divorce personal property. She wouldn't get a single penny.
Her eyes traveled down and landed on the gingerbread box in my hand. She rushed over and knocked it to the floor. "I get sick just looking at your trash cookies!" The necklace box fell alongside the cookies. I knelt down, picked it up, and offered it to her, thinking of it as a final parting gift. Under the dim hallway light, I noticed a gorgeous gold necklace already resting on Mila’s neck. It was brand new. I had never seen it before. Mila looked incredibly smug, and I even caught a flash of shyness in her eyes as her hand gently touched the gold chain. She scoffed, "What kind of cheap junk could you possibly buy with your pocket change? Throw it away." To give myself one last reason to let go, I asked, "If my business succeeds, will you stay?" She let out a harsh laugh. "Spencer, wake up. How could you ever succeed?" "With your stupid gingerbread? Dream on!" With that, she spun around, grabbed her pre-packed suitcases, and headed for the door. Since things had come to this, there was no point in begging a woman who despised me to stay. On her way out, she kicked the fallen box of gingerbread aside. "Get out of my way, eyesore." One of the movers picked it up. "Wow, this gingerbread looks so beautiful. It must taste amazing. Why throw it away? Do you guys not want it?" I smiled, happy that my handmade craft was appreciated, and was about to thank him. But Mila cut in. "Take it if you want. He has tons of those trash cookies that he can't sell anyway." I choked up, holding back my words. I wanted to tell her that my gingerbread had just received hundreds of thousands of pre-orders. I wanted to tell her that I succeeded, and we could buy a mansion in the suburbs. But clearly, she no longer deserved to share this joy with me.
Mila left in a luxury sports car driven by another man. They were incredibly intimate. I didn't know him, but the way Mila looked at him was entirely different from the cold glares she gave me. Before leaving, she repeatedly warned me to show up at the courthouse at 9:00 AM sharp the next morning to sign the divorce papers. She was clearly desperate to get rid of me. Since divorce is a major life event, I suggested at the courthouse entrance if we should talk to her parents first. Mila’s face immediately twisted in anger. "Let me tell you, Spencer, don't try to stall. My parents have been sick of you for a long time." I didn't say another word. We walked in, signed the papers, and had the judge sign off on the divorce. The moment she got her copy, Mila smiled wider than she did on our wedding day. Without even looking back at me, she ran toward a waiting car, waving the papers in the air. The man inside rolled down his window, smiling at her. I recognized him. He was the guy who picked her up yesterday. I went back to my empty house and opened Instagram. Mila had just posted a new update. The caption read: "Beginning of our happiness. Happy 600th day anniversary, babe!" The post featured a selfie of them cuddling, next to a massive bouquet of red roses. I remembered giving her roses on Valentine's Day. She had called them tacky and claimed she hated roses. Turns out, she just hated them when they came from me. I looked around the empty house and told myself: it's time to start a new life.
The contract was finalized, and the first wave of payments cleared. I had never seen so much money in my bank account before. I immediately distributed holiday bonuses to my workers. Making gingerbread for Christmas meant they had to work overtime while everyone else was on vacation. I put the old house on the market with an agent and bought a brand-new, modern condo for myself. I had no time to wallow in the divorce. With Christmas just around the corner, I was busy 24/7. My handmade gingerbread was selling like crazy. The only reason it hadn't before was a lack of marketing channels. Now, we had to expand the factory. My distributors called constantly to restock, and multiple major corporations reached out for partnerships. Watching the numbers in my bank account grow daily gave me endless energy. One day, I personally went with my delivery team to drop off a massive order. The address looked incredibly familiar, but I couldn't place it. It wasn't until I stood at the office building's entrance that I realized—it was Mila's company. To ensure our VIP clients received their holiday gift boxes in perfect condition, I always personally supervised large deliveries. The CEO of her company had ordered these gingerbread gift boxes for all the employees. Everyone was lining up in an orderly fashion to get theirs. It was very professional and quiet. Until someone recognized me and broke the silence. "Wait! Aren't you Mila’s husband? I remember you used to bring her lunch all the time." Mila walked over, following the voice. The moment she saw me, her face fell as if she had just seen a plague. "Why is there always gingerbread wherever you go? Do you have to stalk me?" Her colleagues quickly chimed in, smiling. "Mila, did your husband deliver these just to see you? That's so sweet! You have such a loving husband." "By the way, this handmade gingerbread brand is so famous right now. Can you ask your husband to get us a few more boxes?" I watched as Mila clenched her jaw, snatched the box from her hand, and threw it at her colleague. "We are divorced! He's just a low-level delivery guy! Stop talking about him!" To make her point clearer, she pointed at me with utter disgust. "Look at him. Does he look like he's even in my league?"
Mila's screeching voice was so loud that it drew everyone's attention in the lobby. The colleagues fell into an awkward silence. Realizing she had made a scene, Mila quickly turned and ran back to the elevators. After completing the delivery, the final payment cleared instantly. Looking at my casual clothes, I decided it was time to upgrade my wardrobe. I had been invited to an elite industry Christmas gala, and I needed some high-end suits. While driving, my business partner called. "Spencer, check your Snapchat. I sent you a screenshot of a new product." I opened it and saw a product image. It looked exactly like my handmade gingerbread, with only a tiny, barely noticeable tweak in the design. The brand name was "SWEET." It was a blatant, shameless copycat designed to mislead consumers. Although copycats are common in the food industry, I would never allow someone to steal my hard work. I drove to a high-end shopping mall and walked into a luxury boutique I had never set foot in before. Because I was wearing simple casual clothes, none of the sales associates came to greet me. Meanwhile, a young couple nearby was surrounded by three attentive staff members. The woman turned around, and our eyes met. It was Mila. She was shocked to see me there. With my past income, I could never afford to step into a place like this. After her brief shock, she turned to the sales associate and said, "Does your store just let anyone walk in these days?" She fanned her nose in disgust. "I smell trash." The man beside her was the guy from her Instagram post. Once he realized who I was, he walked up to me with a provocative smile and extended his hand. "Hi. I'm Alex, the owner of SWEET."
I stared at him and nodded. Small world. I had met the plagiarist face-to-face. Just as I reached out to politely return the handshake, he suddenly pulled his hand back, leaving mine hanging in the air. "Excuse me, staff? Why is there trash standing in your store? Can you sweep him out?" He laughed, looking at me like I was a joke. The sales associate walked over to me, looking uncomfortable. "Sir, if you aren't buying anything, please leave." I pointed at the entire row of suits behind them. "Who says I'm not buying? Pack all of these in my size. I'll take them." Mila and Alex laughed even harder. "Babe, did you hear him? He said he wants to buy all of them! That is hilarious!" Mila sneered, "Do you think this is a thrift store where everything is ten dollars? A single jacket here costs more than your monthly salary!" None of the staff moved. They obviously didn't believe I could afford them. "Is this how you treat customers?" I said coldly. "I can easily file a complaint with your corporate office." Fearing a complaint, the staff finally started moving. Mila scoffed, "Keep acting, Spencer. I can't wait to see how you pay." It took an hour to pack all the clothes. When it came time to pay, they all gathered around, waiting to watch me embarrass myself. Even the cashier looked ready to unpack the bags. A few seconds after I tapped my phone, the card reader beeped: Transaction Declined.
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