We Got Married—He Brought Another Woman’s Wedding Photo

Just after marrying Percival Slater, I turned around and saw his wedding photo with his junior, Willow Morgan, displayed on the street.

When I confronted him for an explanation, he yelled at me, saying I was creating problems out of nothing.

"I've already married you, can't you be satisfied?"

Willow called to taunt me.

"So what if you have him physically? His heart will always be with me."

In the past, I would have cried and fought to make Percival Slater cut ties with Willow. But now, I just smiled and gave them my blessings.

"May you both live long together."

...

When I brought out the last dish, the plates on the table were already empty. The insulated lunch box beside it was filled with dishes. Percival placed the milk in hot water to warm it and turned to remind me.

"Next time, don't use so much oil when cooking. Willow needs to eat light now."

I responded absentmindedly. Percival glanced at me, perplexed. Usually, I would argue with him over anything related to Willow, but since seeing their wedding photo, I had lost interest.

As I reached the door, Percival, trying to make amends, turned back to me and said, "I'll bring you a cake when I come back."

I lowered my gaze and finished the food in front of me. By the time Percival returned, it was already morning. He hugged me from behind.

"Violet, it's been a while since we..."

His lips pressed against my neck, and the scent of Willow's perfume filled my nostrils. I got up and pulled away from Percival's embrace.

"Didn't you say you'd bring me a cake?"

"It's honey grapefruit flavor," Percival said, placing a small, delicate cake from the bag. "Willow picked it out herself, saying you'd love it."

Willow certainly knew. I was allergic to honey.

That was the first time I accidentally consumed something with honey. Late at night, Percival watched in panic as I broke out in rashes, my face swelling like a balloon. Desperately, he carried me to the hospital.

While waiting in line for medication, I took a photo of the sweaty Percival on Instagram.

"Thanks to the honey allergy, I got to see Percival sweat."

Willow not only liked my post but also commented.

"I'm so envious, Violet, of having such a great boyfriend like Percival. Just remember not to eat anything with honey next time."

Whether Willow deliberately chose that flavor or not, Percival had forgotten. He had once cherished me, holding me in the palm of his hand.

"I just ate something, so I'm not hungry now. I'll eat it later," I said.

No sooner had I finished speaking than Percival frowned deeply.

"Violet Harlow, don't push it!"

He grabbed the cake and shoved it towards my mouth.

"Willow got sick from buying this for you! If you don't finish it..."

His phone rang before he could finish.

"Willow, what's wrong?"

"Percival, I’m having trouble breathing. It must be from being out in the wind."

Panic spread across Percival's face. "I'll be right there!"

As he almost left, he noticed my face swollen with hives and my arms covered in red rashes.

"What's wrong with you?"

Voice hoarse, I replied, "Allergic reaction."

Percival half-heartedly took me to the hospital. Whether he was excessively worried about Willow or felt a twinge of guilt for me, he remained silent, his frown unyielding throughout the drive.

When it was my turn to register, he hastily pulled some cash from his pocket and handed it to me.

"Willow’s situation is serious. Just get registered first, and I’ll come back for you later."

Watching him run off in the distance, my heart grew colder and colder. The path to registration seemed to stretch endlessly, the entire hospital spinning around me.

"Miss, miss, wake up..."