REVENGE OF THE UGLY WIFE

MATHILDA'S POV

February 27, 2017

I would have preferred to stay home today rather than go out for lunch.

Every moment spent near Fredric is exhausting-his coldness, his disdain, the way he looks at me as if my existence itself annoys him. He has never once spoken to me kindly, never even smiled in my direction. Earlier this morning, he said I should "change my appearance" if I ever wanted to be seen as someone worthy-like one of those glamorous supermodels he admires.

How cruel. How unnecessary.

Yet despite his harshness, my heart betrays me.

I *admire* Fredric. I always have. He was my first love.

Since I was a little girl, we've crossed paths so many times-at my father's workplace, in Rosa's garden, at family gatherings-but he never truly noticed me. To him, I was invisible. Just another awkward girl in the background.

And maybe that's exactly what I am.

Who would ever greet a plain, nerdy girl like me? My face has always been covered in freckles, my hair unruly and curly, my body thin and frail. There's nothing striking about me-no glow, no beauty. Just Mathilda, the ordinary daughter of Rosa's chauffeur.

"Mathilda, how have you been, dear? Everything going well?" Mrs. Rosa's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I blinked and quickly forced a smile.

"Yes, everything's fine, ma'am."

"Working as a cashier must be tiring, isn't it?" she said warmly. "But honest work is always noble."

Before I could answer, Fredric's low voice cut through the air like a blade. "It's not hard work unless you're running a major corporation. That's where the real headaches begin."

His tone carried that familiar arrogance, the kind that made me shrink inside myself. I could never understand what I had done to make him dislike me so much. As far as I remember, I've always treated him with respect. Perhaps... he can somehow sense that I like him?

"Fredric's been very busy lately," Rosa intervened gently, clearly embarrassed by his rudeness. "He gets stressed easily, but don't take his words too seriously, Mathilda. Every job has its own difficulties. Pressure and responsibility are everywhere."

She smiled kindly at me, but I could sense her disappointment in her grandson's attitude.

My parents stayed quiet, smiling politely. I could tell they were uncomfortable too.

Mother once told me Fredric had always been cold-even as a boy-and a little rebellious. But she also said he carried a heavy loneliness inside him. Losing his parents so young couldn't have been easy.

Still, his distance only makes him more magnetic. That quiet, untouchable aura he has... I can't help being drawn to it. Maybe it's foolish, but loving him, even secretly, makes me feel alive.

Fredric turned toward Rosa again. "Grandma, I don't want to interrupt your lunch, but I have an appointment this afternoon-with Paula. She's waiting for me at her agency for an audition, and I promised to go with her. Can we finish soon?"

The name *Paula* echoed in my mind like an unwanted song.

Paula?

Rosa frowned slightly. "Who's Paula?"

Oh, how I wanted to ask the same thing. I've heard of Fredric's many girlfriends before, but this time... something twisted in my chest. I wanted to know more. Who was this woman who could make him smile, make him eager to leave his grandmother's side?

"I'll introduce her to you later," Fredric said quickly, glancing at his watch. "Can we speed this up, Grandma?"

His voice held a hint of irritation, but there was excitement underneath it-excitement that wasn't for me, of course.

If only it *were* me.

But no, those are foolish dreams-illusions of a girl who means nothing to him.

When Fredric's eyes suddenly shifted to me, I panicked and looked down at my plate, pretending to study the food. My heart raced. He must think I'm staring at him, probably like some pathetic stalker.

Rosa, ever the gracious host, broke the silence. "Goyle, if you don't mind, I'd like to ride back home with you after lunch. Fredric has some urgent business, and I'd rather not trouble the driver."

My father immediately agreed. "Of course, Mrs. Rosa."

Fredric wasted no time. He stood, murmured something that barely qualified as a goodbye, and left without even a glance in my direction. His expression was cold, but his pace quickened as if he couldn't wait to meet that woman-Paula.

I sat there quietly, watching him walk away, my chest tight.

Sometimes I wonder why life feels so unfair.

If I can't have the man I love, can't God at least grant me a little happiness-perhaps just a shred of kindness from him?

---

**Later That Night**

Paula.

That name won't stop echoing in my mind.

I wish I hadn't heard it. I wish it didn't bother me this much. But it does.

Tonight feels like one of the worst nights of my life. It's as though hearing that name carved something deep inside me.

I even tried searching for her online. Nothing came up. No clues. No photos. Just the gnawing thought that somewhere out there, she was laughing beside him.

The clock on my bedside table read **11:00 p.m.** I should have been asleep hours ago-I had work early in the morning. But my mind refused to rest. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Fredric's face, his cold eyes, and that name-Paula.

Then suddenly-

"**Darling!**"

The piercing scream shattered the silence. It came from my parents' room.

"Mama?" I rushed to the door, my heart pounding. "Mama, what happened?"

The scene froze me where I stood. My mother was on the floor, convulsing-her mouth foaming, her eyes rolled back.

"Call the ambulance! Now!" my father shouted, his voice breaking.

My hands shook as I grabbed the phone and dialed emergency services. Tears streamed down my face as I gave them our address, my words tumbling out in panic.

Everything felt unreal, like a nightmare I couldn't wake from.

By the time the paramedics arrived, my father was kneeling beside her, his face pale and wet with tears. I stood near the wall, unable to move, unable to breathe.

"Mathilda, come," my father whispered hoarsely, gripping my trembling hand.

We climbed into the ambulance. The siren wailed through the night as the vehicle sped through the empty streets.

I saw Mrs. Rosa through the window as we passed her house. She had come outside, looking worried, her nightgown fluttering in the cold breeze.

"Papa... why did Mama fall?" I asked, barely audible.

"That's what I'm trying to understand," he said, his voice cracking. "She came out of the bathroom, then suddenly collapsed. There was foam at her mouth... I didn't know what to do but scream."

We fell silent after that. The sound of the siren filled the space where words failed.

---

We sat outside the ICU, our bodies tense with fear. Half an hour passed with no news.

I kept gripping my hand so tightly it hurt, trying to keep myself from falling apart.

"Will Mama be all right?" I whispered. I had asked that same question so many times that my father stopped answering. He just sat there, motionless, his face hidden behind his trembling hands.

Then the door opened.

A doctor stepped out, his face grim. My father and I jumped to our feet and rushed toward him.

"How is my wife?" my father asked desperately.

The doctor didn't speak at first. He only shook his head.

My father bolted past him, running into the ICU. I stood frozen, grabbing the doctor's arm, begging for an explanation. "Please... tell me. What happened? I don't understand!"

The doctor sighed heavily. "I'm sorry. Your mother passed away. It was a sleeping pill overdose."

His words didn't register at first. My grip loosened. My knees gave way, and I sank to the cold floor.

"What?" I whispered. "No... that can't be true..."

But the look on his face told me everything.

My world-already fragile-shattered completely.

My mother was gone.

Gone without a goodbye, without a reason, without an answer.

And I could do nothing but cry into the silence, asking a God who no longer seemed to listen-

Why her? Why us? Why tonight?