The Woman You Should Not Have Wronged

Six years after my release from prison, I opened a hamburger and fries shop in the west side of the city.

My life was just getting back on track.

Yet on an ordinary afternoon, I swiped over a "confession" video from an emotional blogger.

In the video, she proudly boasted about how she married into a wealthy family. How she gradually kicked the original wife out of the house. And how she secured her so-called perfect life by expertly manipulating her husband.

"Why did the latecomer surpass the early ones? Because I know how to compete and seize opportunities."

"Remember, the one who isn't loved is the mistress."

"The self-righteous, aloof old woman was destined for misery."

I thought her values ​​were warped and clicked "not interested."

But then, while kneading dough that afternoon, it suddenly dawned on me, everything she said sounded exactly like what had happened between me and Dwayne Maguire.

——

The video was blurry, making it hard to see anything clearly.

I casually swiped into the homepage list and sure enough, I saw Dwayne's back in the pinned video.

Strangely, that large, bony hand still had our wedding ring on it. He wasn't a frugal or sentimental person.

Perhaps business hadn't been good these past few years.

I shrugged it off with a laugh.

Just as I was about to block her, the curtain was lifted.

A heavy chill swept over me.

I put down my phone and casually called out. "This morning's hamburger are sold out."

"If you want some, come back after four in the afternoon when we reopen."

The man stood motionless at the door, blocking half the light. Only after a long while did a familiar voice call out to me. "Navier, it's me."

I looked up and the familiar figure was shrouded in the winter gloom.

I was momentarily lost in thought, then offered a polite yet distant smile. "I said the hamburger were sold out."

Dwayne had no response. His gaze swept over the shabby little hut and settled on my rough, cracked hands.

I was not sure if it was real or just something I was imagining.

His breath seemed to pause for a moment. He looked at me, his tone filled with shock and disbelief. "Navier, all these years ... you've been living here all along?"

He seemed surprised, to see me kneading dough with the same hands I used to play the piano and paint and to see the once proud and bright Ms. Ridley would willingly endure such a hard life now.

It also seemed like a test, to see if I would cling to him like before and to see if I would cry and beg him to come home.

However, faced with the man's intense gaze, I remained silent.

After a while, he spoke again, his voice tinged with doubt and resentment,

"I've seen Sienna's video."

"What happened back then ... I'm sorry."

"If you want to come back ...."

"No need." I interrupted, then continued to knead the dough without even lifting my head. "I am living well now."

Dwayne, who was not getting a definitive answer, was growing anxious. He unconsciously raised his voice, "What about Noah?"

"You're going to let my son live this kind of miserable life with you?!"

My hands, which were kneading the dough, paused for a moment.

I lowered my head and spoke calmly, "Noah died."

He frowned and continued. "Where are your parents? Don't they care about you?"

I threw the dough aside and looked up at him, replying, "My parents have also died."

"I'm not selling the hamburger today. You can leave."

Seeing my attitude, he became somewhat angry. "Navier, I know you resent me for what happened back then. But can you please stop joking about the lives of your loved ones?"