Abandoned for the Maid, I Set My Husband Free

His eyes flicked away, avoiding mine.

“This is our marital privacy, it’s not something to be spoken aloud.”

“And didn’t you personally invite top experts from abroad for me?”

“I believe it can be cured. We’ll have our own children, so why rely on anyone else?”

Before his words could fully settle, Kristen stepped in, feigning innocence.

“My friends all say I’m very fertile, though I’m not sure what they mean.”

“But I did give birth to five sons, one set of twins, one set of triplets. Even I think it’s rather miraculous.”

A soft blush touched her cheeks.

“I just feel, even if my husband were infertile, I should still be able to have a child.”

George’s eyes brightened at her words, but he quickly masked it, forcing his composure back.

He wrapped his arm around my waist with stiffness, intentionally putting space between Kristen and me.

“Kristen, don’t ever speak like that again,” he warned. “Even if we can’t have children, Jennifer is the only wife I’ve chosen.”

His words made it feel as though I were the one who was flawed, incapable of giving him a child.

But with Kristen, he would certainly have one.

I felt a surge of disgust. Just half a month ago, I had flown abroad, arranging consultations with top specialists for him.

And yet, behind my back, he had brought Kristen into our home in secret.

Kristen carried burnt stir-fried dishes to the table, moving gracefully.

George, picky as ever, buried his face in his food and devoured three bowls of rice without complaint.

The antique sapphire earrings he had bought secretly, I had assumed they were for my birthday, now adorned Kristen’s ears.

Each night, he waited until I fell asleep before entering our bedroom, as though I might stop him.

I took a deep breath and pointed at Kristen.

“George, I’ll ask you one last time… are you really sure you want to keep her?”

He shoved me aside impatiently.

“Are you done yet? Haven’t I already made myself clear?”

“Must you keep making baseless accusations, stirring up trouble, trampling my dignity into the ground?”

My lower back slammed against the stair railing, pain shooting through me so sharply I couldn’t straighten.

George rolled his eyes and came over irritably, trying to pull me up.

“Alright, stop pretending. Acting weak doesn’t suit you. You didn’t get the nickname ‘tomboy’ for nothing!”

I remembered sophomore year, when he had walked me back to my dorm.

Just as we reached the bottom, a basin fell from above. Without thinking, I had pushed him aside, taken the hit on my head, and smiled at him, insisting I was fine.

In the end, I needed five stitches, earning the nickname “tomboy.”

Now he used it as a mockery.

I jerked away from his hand. “Don’t touch me… you’re filthy.”

His face stiffened, his hand curling into a tight fist.

“Can’t you speak properly for once today?”

“I’ve said all I need to. With her, there’s no me.”

Leaving the words hanging, I turned and went upstairs.

George opened his mouth to follow, but Kristen began to sob softly.

“I understand no one has ever liked me. Everyone always says I’m slow, useless.”

“That’s why my ex abandoned me, leaving me to raise five sons alone.”

“When my father loses at gambling, he beats me. When my sick mother is moody, she calls me cheap. Even my own children say I’m worthless.”

“Now, even your wife hates me, fighting with George, wanting a divorce because of me. I might as well die.”

She finished and moved as if to smash her head into the wall.

George hurried forward, gripping her gently, eyes brimming with helplessness.

“Kristen, don’t do this. I’ve never despised you.”

“You’re not slow, really. You’re very cute.”

A smile broke through Kristen’s tears. “Really?”

George reached out, running his fingers through her hair, raising his voice deliberately.