I Wish You Well

My voice was cold and sharp as I spoke, "When you're staying in someone else's home, you should at least remember you're a guest."

Just then, Eric rushed in, not even bothering to take off his shoes, dragging the chill of the outside snow with him. I shivered, stepping back from the cold air.

The first thing he did was check over Grace in a flurry, clearly panicked. "Are you okay, Grace? Did you get burned?"

His voice was filled with worry, something I had never seen in him before.

He quickly ran her hand under cold water, his face tense with concern. Then, he applied burn ointment with such care that it made my heart ache.

Watching them, my eyes started to sting with unshed tears as I instinctively pulled back my own hand, which had been burned by the bolognese Grace had spilled.

I was still standing there, frozen in place, when Eric finally looked at me with irritation, his brow furrowed. "I never thought you'd turn out so mean."

"All Grace did was accidentally knock something over, and you go off on her like that? It makes me wonder how you treat her when I'm not around. No wonder you can't get pregnant. You’re too evil!"

He pointed at the mess on the floor, his voice harsh. "What are you still standing there for? Clean it up before Grace steps on it and gets hurt!"

I stood there, dumbfounded. I wanted to wipe the tears from my eyes, but when I reached up, the burn on my skin had stuck to my sleeve.

At that moment, my heart sank. I bit down hard, trying to endure the searing pain as I carefully peeled the fabric away from my injured skin. However, Eric had turned away, walking over to Grace without sparing me a second glance.

I don’t know when it started, but his attention was always on Grace now. He didn’t see me at all anymore.

Not long after that, he rented Grace her own apartment. From that point on, he came home less and less, often just rushing in to grab a few things before leaving again, like he was checking in at a hotel, not coming home.

One day, I couldn't take it anymore and confronted him. “Eric, what is the meaning of this? Do you even remember that you have a family?”

He glanced up from his phone, the smile on his face fading the moment he saw me. “Don't start this again. I'm busy with work, can’t you understand?”

With that, he pulled open the door and walked out. I reached for him, but the door slammed shut, catching my hand painfully. I gasped in pain and pulled back my hand.

It felt like my world had frozen over. The physical pain was nothing compared to the ache in my chest.

Just then, my phone buzzed with another message from Grace, her words filled with mockery.

"Ms. Smith, are you mad at me? You really shouldn't have failed me on purpose. Now poor Eric has to take me on vacation to help me relax. All of this is your fault, you know."

I let out a bitter laugh and replied, “Have fun.”

I barely had time to put my phone down before it rang again. It was Eric calling.

"Tess, are you seriously threatening Grace from miles away? Great job. Now she feels guilty and wants to come back. Are you happy now?"

His voice was filled with anger. "You're so disgusting. I’m the one who insisted on taking her, and it’s all because I’m trying to make it up to you. Now hurry up and apologize to her!"

I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could say anything, he hung up.

Make it up to me? What exactly did I need an apology for? I hadn’t done anything wrong.

I sat in our empty home, my heart churning with a mix of emotions I couldn’t calm. I glanced up at our wedding photo on the wall, the image of us smiling on that happy day now felt like a cruel joke.

I reached for the knife on the table. Staring at the knife in my hand, I was lost in thought.

Eric had built his wealth through real estate, but the elites always looked down on him, seeing him as a nouveau riche. In his desperate attempt to fit into the upper class, he forced me to eat half-raw steak over and over again, even though I had chronic gastritis. Every time, I’d suffer for days in pain, but all he did was shoot me disapproving looks, silently tormenting me.

As such, I fought hard to learn the proper table etiquette, trying to meet his impossible standards. However, when I finally mastered it all, he just scoffed and said, "Why would I bring you around to embarrass me again?"

Those words crushed me, leaving me breathless. Yet now, his words didn’t have the power to hurt me anymore.

With a swift motion, I sliced through the wedding photos, shredding them all into pieces.