My Husband Tattooed His Mistress’ Name

He stood under snow, the cuff of his padded coat leaking cotton, yet he hid the roasted sweet potatoes inside his jacket to keep them hot.

"Vera?"

Seeing that I stayed quiet, he moved one step nearer.

The gardenia smell became thicker.

Faye suddenly dashed out, stumbling as she fell into Luther’s arms.

"Brother Luther!"

"Her people had held me down and forcefully sliced off skin from my body…"

"Didn’t you say you would guard me forever? It hurts so much…"

Luther’s breath clearly paused.

He stared at the wrapped spot on her chest, then at the smooth surface on mine, his throat bobbing hard.

His tone sank, heavy and cold. "Vera, how did you turn into this?"

"So… heartless?"

Faye quietly cried in his embrace, yet the look she threw at me was bold, proud.

"She’s so young, leaving such a large wound on her body, how will she manage later?"

His voice grew harsher. "Do you need to break her before you feel satisfied?"

Watching him shield Faye like that, I suddenly recalled the eighteen-year-old Luther.

Back then, he was careful; even when he held me, he never dared squeeze his arms tight.

Yet he made his first promise, saying he would guard me for all his life.

I lightly ran my hand across the fresh skin on my chest, pressing down the sharp ache in my heart.

"And have you ever wondered what I should do, walking around with lines like that carved on me?"

"She inked that on my body. I take some of her skin. It’s equal."

Luther parted his lips, yet nothing came out. He fell quiet.

Seeing this, Faye curled deeper in his arms, then suddenly shrieked wildly, "Brother Luther! I am already carrying your baby!"

"You cannot let her treat me like this! Take me away! Please take me away!!"

I froze like being hit by thunder, staring as happiness clearly lit up in Luther’s eyes.

He gently lifted Faye into his arms sideways, moving softly like holding something precious.

His brows and eyes were bright with open joy. "Don’t fear, we will go to the hospital right now."

He rushed past me without even slowing, only throwing back one line. "Vera, you should cool down and learn how to act as Mrs. Campbell properly."

From that second on, Luther didn’t step home for three full months.

He brought Faye to Switzerland to watch the snow.

She casually said she liked the Alps, and he soon bought a mountain house, ownership written only under her name.

Then they headed to Venice.

Faye shared pictures online, wearing the vintage jewelry set Luther ordered for her, an eighteenth-century sapphire necklace shining bright on her neck.

[There is always someone quietly making every wish happen. So this must be how it feels to be valued.]

Luther’s preference had always been open, just like when he chased me before, never knowing how to hide it.

I stared at that photo for a long while, until my eyes stung and went blurry.

Head bent down, I turned the ring on my ring finger, the tiny diamond ring he paid for with his first month's intern pay.

"Uncle Jovan."