He Doesn’t Love Me

Before I blocked him, I picked up his call one last time.

There was chaos on the other end before his voice cut through. He sounded a little surprised. “Are you done causing trouble? I’m out of sleep balms. You need to make more.”

“It’s only a sleep balm. If you can’t buy one, get Sharon to make you some. You own an entire spice estate. Surely, that’s enough for you.”

“Can you stop being so bitter? How long are you going to hold on to this? What do I have to do to satisfy you?”

I no longer wanted to argue with him

Every time we had a conflict, he avoided discussing the cause. Instead, he would placate me with money, gifts, and property. It was as if once I benefited from these material things, I should swallow my grievances and never speak of them again.

I could not help but laugh bitterly. “Not everything can be solved with money. That tree helped you for seven years. Even a dog would show gratitude after that long. How do you manage to feel nothing?”

He fell silent, and it felt like a storm was about to break.

“Hazel, mind your tone when you speak to me!”

I ignored his anger and murmured, more to myself than to him, “Charles, I supported you for seven years. But that day, all you cared about was defending her. What am I to you?”

My calm words rattled him, and fear crept into his voice. “You’re my wife.

“I acted on impulse that day. Just come home, and I won’t hold you accountable for running away. We can wipe the slate clean.”

I laughed again. “Wipe the slate clean? Can you wipe our relationship away along with it?”

He snapped again.

“You must’ve lived too comfortably for too long. Do you need to suffer before you recognize your place? You’re nothing without me. What makes you think you can divorce me? If you divorce me, I promise you’ll be begging to come back within a month.”

I laughed and hung up before I blocked him.

His confidence came from my patents, which had given his company its edge.

However, destroying him would be just as easy.

…

I met up with a senior of mine, Eric Tunstall, in a cafe in Zureland. There, I agreed to his request to transfer all my latest designs and patents to him.

After that, I returned to pack my things and moved into a small rented apartment.

It was modest, but far better than Charles’s home.

Just as I was leaving, I saw him at the door.

In just a few days, the once-polished man had a stubble on his jaw.

“Hazel, what did you do? Why did the company just get hit with a lawsuit from Zureland?”

His voice burned with anger and disbelief.

“They said it was due to infringement, and all those designs were yours.”

I smiled sweetly. “Weren’t you so confident that I’d regret leaving? Let’s see who regrets it, then. If you don’t want to lose even more, hurry up and sign the divorce papers.”

“When will you grow up? Stop throwing jealous fits! Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused Sharon? You’ll have countless designs in the future. Why cling to these few?”

He stared me down as his rage simmered.

All of a sudden, his phone rang. He answered it on speaker, and his assistant’s voice came through. “Mr. Lennon, we’ve found out why your wife went to the hospital.”

Charles glared at me with a mix of complex emotions. “Speak.”

“She suffered nerve damage from mechanical trauma. She’s been undergoing rehabilitation after surgery. The first hospital visit was… the night of your family banquet.”