For His First Love, My Husband Killed My Mother

Jacob stormed over, his eyes bloodshot with rage.

He slapped me hard—twice.

Then, without a second glance, he carried Wendy away.

The guests shook their heads in disappointment before quietly leaving one by one.

The once-crowded funeral hall was suddenly empty.

I held my mother’s memorial portrait, staring at the vacant space around me.

Maybe this was for the best.

I had been deceived by this fake love for too many years.

My mother’s funeral didn’t need these hypocrites anyway.

The ceremony ended in a rush, and I became the joke of the city.

Someone even leaked the incident online, where it spread like wildfire.

Now, everyone knew Jacob’s wife, Juliana, was an unfilial disgrace. A crazed woman unworthy of respect.

But I didn’t care.

My heart had long since died. Nothing could stir it anymore.

I met with my lawyer, obtained the divorce papers, and asked him to investigate my mother’s injury and her medical records from when she was hospitalized.

As for me, I returned home to pack my things.

Once the divorce was finalized, this place would become Jacob and Wendy’s love nest, wouldn’t it?

I didn’t want to leave a single trace of myself behind.

The thought of it made me sick.

As I sorted through my belongings, I realized that I had kept a lot of things about Jacob.

The autumn leaf he once casually gave me. The calendar from the day we first met. An old phone filled with our past conversations.

Even the fridge held remnants of our relationship—the first cup of milk tea he ever bought me, a leftover piece of cake from our engagement party.

Jacob used to complain that I kept too much trash. However, I always corrected him, telling him those were the memories of our love.

But looking at them now—he was right.

They were trash.

I threw everything into the garbage.

As I continued packing, I stumbled upon a thick photo album belonging to Jacob.

Curious, I flipped it open.

Inside were printed screenshots—pages and pages of messages between him and Wendy.

He had carefully preserved their conversations, turning them into a photo collection.

Every message was soaked in his longing for her.

[Wendy, I married her, but my heart belongs to you.]

[Wendy, even when I’m with her, I think of your name.]

[Wendy, I never turn on the lights when I’m with her. That way, I can pretend it’s you.]

[Wendy, I bought you a seaside villa. You’ve suffered at the hands of that mother and daughter for so long—this is the least they owe you.]

[Wendy, I want to give you all my money. I know it’s crude, but it’s the only way I can make it up to you. Please, don’t refuse me anymore.]

[Wendy, I hate her. She trapped me, keeping me from being with you.]

I slowly closed the album.

A silent, bitter smile curled my lips.

So, Jacob did have a heart—he just never used it on me.

This album had been sitting on his bookshelf all along. I had been too stupid to check. Too foolish to ever doubt him.

Or maybe Jacob never cared if I found out.

If I had caused a scene, demanded a divorce, wouldn’t that have been exactly what he wanted?

Then he’d be free to be with Wendy.

Fine. I’d give them what they wanted.

By the time I had thrown away everything, it was already late at night.

I signed the divorce papers and called Jacob.

He didn’t answer for a long time, but when he did, he hung up immediately.

I sent a message instead. [Can you come home? There’s something I need to discuss with you.]

Thirty minutes later, my phone rang.

His voice was filled with fury. "Juliana, you know Wendy is injured, and you’re still calling me home? What’s your problem? Are you really this cruel? This petty?"