My Husband Chose His True Love's Dog Over My Life

I followed Thatcher back to the villa.

Veronica threw herself into his arms as soon as he opened the door, acting dramatically and clingy.

"Babe, those were the worst three hours of my life! I missed you so much!" she sulked.

She looked like something straight out of a fairy tale, with her pearl hair clip and that perfect miniskirt.

Meanwhile, I was stuck looking like a wreck—sick and haggard.

No wonder Thatcher said once that I didn't even measure up to a single hair on Veronica's head.

Out of nowhere, he bent down, scooped up a clump of fur from the floor, and tossed it in the trash.

"Damn that woman for calling me five years ago and screwing up Bailey's treatment!"

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, sharp and brutal.

It stung so bad that I had to face it.

My blinded love for him was damn hilarious.

I was a wealthy young woman, reduced to a live-in maid, dragging my sick self around, cooking and cleaning just for him to have nothing else to focus on but work.

But no matter how low I sank, I was still worth less than Veronica's dog in his eyes!

She giggled, her smile bright like some kind of sunshine.

"You know, I don't blame Jasmine. She loves you too much. No wonder she can't even stand Bailey!"

Shaking her head, she ripped open a bag of chips and held them out to Thatcher like she was offering him the world.

"Don't stress yourself, babe. Come on, have some, and cheer up!"

He took a piece, grinning like an idiot.

"Junk food isn't good for you. You should eat less of it, hmm?"

I sat in the corner of the room, hugging my knees while quietly watching my husband and my murderer embrace each other.

It brought back that time I was snacking on some chips at home, and Thatcher caught me.

He snatched the bag right out of my hands and flung it to the ground. He crushed it with one shoe and stormed out like I'd committed a crime.

I never really understood why he got so mad.

But out of habit, I apologized to him everywhere I could—text, social media, everything.

But he ignored all of it.

Back then, I relapsed and the pain was unbearable.

With the last bit of strength, I called him for help.

But he just hung up on me.

In the end, it was my sister who came by to hang out and found me lying on the floor, and she rushed me to the hospital.

When I was conscious again, something in me died.

Thatcher didn't love me, so why was I trying so hard?

It wasn't good for either of us.

That's when I changed my number and sent him a text.

[Hey, it's Jasmine. Let's get divorced.]

Who knew that half an hour later, Thatcher would show up by my hospital bed?

He looked completely different from his usual self and even handed me a champagne-colored rose.

When he spoke, his voice was filled with guilt.

"Hey, I'm sorry. Look, I just got mad when I caught you eating junk food because you weren't paying attention to your health."

"And I've been so caught up with work these days. I didn't mean to ignore your messages."

Maybe because he had never treated me like a wife before, so I forgave him just like that.

One flower, one apology, and I thought he really regretted what he did.

But a few days later, I happened to see a video Veronica posted on Facebook.

It turned out that Thatcher got mad at me for snacking on chips because his first love made an official announcement online.

And all those days he wasn't replying to my messages? He was actually traveling with her.

His sudden apology? It was because he found out that Veronica only posted the video as part of a dare she lost.

Once he was in a better mood, he threw me a smile like it was a reward.

And the rose he gave me, which I'd been putting in my hair every day?

It was just one out of a thousand roses he gave Veronica. It was the ugliest one she chose to toss aside.

"I wonder where that bitch is off messing around."

Thatcher's sigh snapped me back to the present.

Veronica's face quickly went stiff.

"Babe, do you care about her that much?"

Thatcher held her gently, but the words that came out of his mouth were sharp as a knife.

"Nah, the only woman I care about is you, babe. I just want that bitch to apologize to Bailey."

My beloved husband making me apologize to his mistress' dog—isn't that insane?

God! Could anything else be more hilarious than this?

I laughed so hard that tears came out of my eyes.

But right after that, despair and pain swept over my whole body over and over again.

And the worst part? This pair of scumbags kept playing out their little love story in front of me!

Oh, how I wish I could just kill them!

Choke them, stab them—I didn't even care how!

But every time I reached for them, I just passed right through. Nothing. They were happy, completely uninterrupted.

They were just hugging each other quietly until Veronica let out a sigh and slipped back into her sweet facade.

"I won't really hold it against her for giving Bailey that skin condition. In fact, if she comes back, I'm willing to get along with her, you know," she said.

Thatcher stroked her hair, so gently it almost seemed like it could drip sweetness.

"Oh, babe, you're really so understanding," Thatcher remarked. "But if I were you, I won't even blink if that bitch gets torn into pieces out there."

Then suddenly, a phone rang, cutting through their disgusting little scene.

"Mr. Cunningham," his assistant called, "the cops found a heart-shaped pearl hair clip in the sewage pit."

"I remember Jasmine wore something like that every time she brought you lunch to the company, didn't she?"