A Ridiculous Love
When she married him, she was twenty, still in college, as pure as clear water.
He was very wealthy, but also much older, old enough to be her father. She didn’t care about his age or his wealth. She once said that even if he were penniless, she would still marry him.
He was deeply moved by her words, holding her as if she were a precious treasure.
Their wedding was simple, not extravagant. He said at his age he preferred low-key celebrations, and that marriage was between the two of them, not something to show off to others.
She didn’t object. His love was the best gift to her; she didn’t care about anything else.
On their wedding day, he held her by the waist, tightly embracing her and said, “My dear, are you willing to give me everything?”
She nodded as if under a spell, feeling at that moment she would even give up her life if he asked.
After the wedding, she seldom went out, listened to him in everything, and dedicated herself to being a virtuous wife. He treated her exceptionally well, never flirting with other women and always taking her to social events, saying she was beautiful and that bringing her along made him proud.
However, she couldn’t handle alcohol well. Just a small glass would make her lose consciousness. She tried to avoid drinking, but he wouldn’t allow it, always persuading her to drink a little, saying it was necessary for socializing. Unable to refuse, she would drink and end up drunk and miserable the next day.
This time, after a bout of drinking, she felt particularly unwell. Struggling to get up, she went to the hospital and returned with good news—she was pregnant.
Back home, she couldn’t stop smiling, touching her belly, imagining his joy at becoming a father. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice him come home.
“Dear!” He walked over and asked curiously, “What are you thinking about? I’ve called you several times.”
Unable to contain her excitement, she pointed to her belly and said slowly, “You’re going to be a dad.”
He was initially stunned, showing no happiness on his face. He reached out, hugged her, and gently said, “I told you, we don’t want children.”
“Why?” She became agitated, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Why?” His gaze turned cold as he pushed her away and said, “How do we even know whose child it is? Can we keep it?”
“What are you saying?” She was shocked, unable to believe those words came from his mouth.
He quickly regained his composure, smiled, and said, “Dear, don’t be angry. I was joking. We don’t want children because we want to enjoy our time together. A child would be too much work and too tiring. I don’t want you to be exhausted.” He gently kissed her on the cheek.
Looking at his ever-changing face, she couldn’t tell which was his true self.
He then said more gently, “Look, honey, what did I buy for you?”
A diamond necklace sparkled in his hand. He shook the necklace and said, “Honey, listen to me. Let’s not have children for now. Wear this necklace, and I’ll take you out later.”
She glanced at it indifferently and shook her head, “No, I don’t want to go out.”
“What’s wrong with you?” His voice rose.
She bit her lip and after a long while, said, “I’m tired and want to rest early.”
“What do you mean?” He shouted, “I’m telling you, you must go!”
Tears welled up in her eyes as she touched her belly. In the end, she gave in. At the party, she pretended to drink the wine in her glass and feigned unconsciousness.
Through a small slit in her eyes, she saw him laughing wickedly and despicably, along with several other men at the party, all naked and surrounding her. At that moment, she wished she were dead…
The next morning, she woke with a fleeting yet sorrowful smile. Without a word to him, she went to the hospital, and then to the civil affairs bureau. The marriage certificate turned out to be fake. She cursed the shameless man.
In the end, she withdrew all the money from his account and boarded a train. She felt the money was rightfully hers. How ridiculous—he would surely suffer from losing his money, but how tragic—he wouldn’t shed a tear over her departure.
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
