Sleazy Husband Dumps Widow After Demolition

He sat up and glared at me.

“You’re so difficult. I can’t walk hunched over. I can’t shake my leg when I’m sitting. I can’t lie on the bed without changing my clothes.”

He seemed to have found a way to vent his frustrations as he snuffed out his cigarette.

“Chloe, go outside and see how many men stay home and take care of their wives like I do every day.

“You’d be lucky to even find one! You have no idea just how lucky you are!”

I could not help but let out a cold laugh.

Take care of their wives like he does? How could he say such a thing?

I had known him for many years. When we were young, I loved his carefree and laid-back attitude. He played the acoustic guitar with such youthful fervor.

He always said he dreamed of becoming a musician, but it remained just a dream.

Many years ago, he was depressed after losing in the preliminary round of a music competition.

He said the music industry did not appreciate his talent.

Since then, he stayed home, played his guitar, and slept a lot, which was why he had gotten so chubby.

If my parents had not set aside their pride in asking their student to help him find a job, he would still be lazing around the house.

He gave me a sideways glance and said, “Chloe, you should learn a little from Grace. She really understands people.”

He sounded aggrieved. “I deserve to live like a normal person, don’t I?”

At that moment, I felt nothing but disgust toward Ethan.

He fell silent when he saw my face darken.

After a while, he got up and muttered to himself while changing into his shoes.

“What’s the point of marrying you if I can’t even have a warm meal when I get home?”

He opened the door and was about to head out but hesitated as he glanced back at me.

“I’m off to work. Chloe, think this over. Stop making things so difficult for me.”

I was so furious that I let out a sarcastic laugh and gazed at him coldly.

I watched him huff and puff as he walked out. His bag barely hung onto his protruding belly.

He was barely thirty, yet he already looked like a middle-aged man who had let himself go.

The boy who used to stay up all night playing guitar and singing love songs outside my home was gone.

When my parents were against our relationship, he held my hand firmly and swore that he would look after me.

“I’ll make sure Chloe never suffers. I’ll take on all the difficult work.”

He even stood up for me in front of his widowed mother, Margaret Harper.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with her. Mom, if you love me, you’ve got to love her too.”

The man who once shed tears in worry when I was unwell had truly changed.

I sat there for a long time. My phone kept buzzing next to me.

A few people texted me. There were messages from Ethan, Margaret, and an unknown number.

When I opened my phone, I saw a few taunting texts from Grace.

Grace: Chloe, Ethan said he’s jealous of my dead husband because he was lucky enough to marry me.

I read it a couple more times. The sadness in my heart gradually faded away.

This was the first time I had seen a woman so eager to throw herself at someone like this.

Grace moved into this neighborhood more than half a year ago. She opened a breakfast shop not so far from my house.

Her husband passed away over a year ago. I heard that she was driven out by her in-laws.

She has a graceful figure, a sharp chin, and captivating eyes.

Since she moved in, Ethan, who struggled to get up in the mornings, frequently went to have breakfast there.

He often talked about Grace. It was something I realized I had overlooked.

He praised Grace’s breakfast and said it was like no other that he had had before.

“Grace knows what I like. She knows I don’t like my food bland.”

I finally understood what this “special breakfast” really was.

It was no wonder he had not brought up our plans to have kids in a while.

After calming myself down, I made a few calls to inquire about divorce proceedings.

Ethan returned earlier than I expected. He burst through the door in a fit of anger.

“Chloe, are you crazy? What right do you have to quit my job on my behalf?”

But his anger quickly deflated when he noticed what I was doing.

His eyes widened as he asked, “What... are you doing?”