Chapter 6

I was somewhat of a leader in the company, after all, I was Mrs. Avila and had a certain authority.

Recently, the company had recruited a group of students from top universities for internships, and I was in charge of them.

One of the boys was very smart and obedient, always calling me "sister."

I didn't mind; after all, I had been his age once. He just wanted to be nice to me to get a better evaluation.

Krish didn't need to know about it.

However, unexpectedly, that boy confessed his feelings to me recently.

I was taken aback.

To be honest, I knew I wasn't unattractive, but my heart was completely devoted to Krish at that time, and I hadn't paid any attention to anyone else's affections.

I politely declined his confession and advised him to focus on his internship and not to get involved in any nonsense.

He agreed, but after the internship, he took all his earnings and bought me a gold necklace.

"Sister, a couple of days ago, I accidentally glanced at your shopping cart and saw you had saved this necklace… I don't have much money and I know I'm not worthy of you, but please accept my gift as a memory."

The sincerity in the boy's eyes, his nervousness, and the shy cuteness he exuded made me realize, perhaps I had never truly looked at anyone else; I had just plunged into my feelings for Krish.

He came to find me only after completing all the resignation procedures, simply to give me a gold necklace.

But he didn't know that the necklace was a gift my husband had given to another woman.

Even if it cost half of his savings.

Yet my husband didn't even blink.

Looking at the shiny necklace in the box, my eyes became moist, and I found myself at a loss for words.

To my surprise, before I could refuse, Krish suddenly stormed in from somewhere and punched that boy!

He was knocked to the ground, blood streaming from his nose.

That boy-I didn't even remember his name-was sent to the hospital after being beaten.

Because of Krish's interference, I couldn't even find an opportunity to meet him and say I was sorry.

A few days later, Krish casually informed me that he had paid two hundred thousand to settle things privately.

I was furious.

His nonchalant tone felt like trampling on someone else's dignity.

Noticing my anger, Krish's expression twisted: "Sophie, what are you angry about? Feeling sorry for that guy? Don't you know he just wanted to cling to a rich woman!"

"What does him liking me have to do with you?"

I didn't want to discuss this with him at all.

Our marriage had already reached a freezing point; he just wouldn't let go.

"You are my wife! What does it matter to me if another man is close to you?"

I retorted mercilessly: "How many things have you given to other women? You've made other women pregnant, and someone gives me a gift-what's wrong with that?!"

Krish's face turned ashen with rage.

That night, he didn't come home and returned reeking of alcohol.

He kept mumbling my name.

It made me feel disgusted.

From that day on, Krish was no longer indifferent to me; he waited for me every day after work, following me wherever I went.

Not only that, during the time I loved him, I had asked him to buy me many gifts, but he never remembered them.

Now that I no longer loved him, he started buying gifts instead.

So many gold and silver jewelry pieces, expensive luxury bags filled our small home.

He looked at me with a mixture of pride and eagerness: "Sophie, are you satisfied now? I can give you much more than other men!"

I quietly looked at those gifts, my expression utterly calm.

What a dreamy scene.

Gifts cluttered the floor, all brands I used to love.

But time had passed, and I no longer liked them.

Things had changed, and so had I.

"These brands were my favorites years ago, but I no longer love them. I've developed a liking for new brands and styles; I've long since grown tired of those old things."

I honestly expressed my feelings, and in return, Krish's smile froze.

He stared at me, speechless.

In recent days, he had become increasingly gloomy and unpredictable, as if he didn't know who he was fighting against.

I calmly watched him.

Dislike was dislike; how could one force themselves?

That day, he returned home again heavily intoxicated.

"Sophie, what do you want? Just tell me. What do you really want?" He attempted to embrace me.

I simply pushed him away forcefully and said, "If you're not drunk, don't pretend to be."