When I went to get the medicine, Jasper gave me a bunch of precautions. For example, from now on, you can only drink congee, hard, sour, spicy, resolutely not to eat.

Finally, he frowned and earnestly urged me, "Not a single meal of medicine should be left out, and even more so, not a single bit of alcohol should be dabbled in again!"

"Good." I respond to him as I open my phone and look at Everett's circle of friends.

As if by heart, he just updated two minutes ago: the steak was delicious.

The accompanying photo is of the steakhouse on Willow Lane.

Someone at the bottom commented, "Did you eat with your sister-in-law, so happy!"

He replied, "No, friend."

I turned off my cell phone, my heart gradually spreading on bitterness.

He actually contacted the girl again and took her out for a steak that I really wanted. This shows that he is different for that girl.

My knuckles gripping the phone were so hard that they were white, and I was both aggravated and saddened.

Even what Jasper is telling me goes in the left ear and out the right ear, and I can't hear it.

"Bang, bang, bang!" He frowned and knocked on the table, the

"Isadora, what are you walking away from at this hour?" Giving me a disgruntled glare, he took a bag of something out of the drawer and handed it to me. It was stomach-warming patches.

"It'll be more comfortable to put it on after you've taken the medicine. Isadora, get on the ball, and if you can't remember it yourself, have Everett do it for you! It's no small matter!"

I pulled a smile, "Got it. Don't worry, he has a better memory than I do."

Everett wouldn't care about me. Not only wouldn't care about me, but after seeing the stomach warmer patch on the table, instead of asking what was wrong, he sank his face.

It was a while before he said, "There's a drinking party tomorrow, you're coming with me."

"I have something tomorrow." I turned him down.

His face hardened even more, his cool gaze sweeping over me, his dark eyes like a bottomless abyss that seemed to pierce me through, "Going to the hospital to find Jasper again, are you?"

With that, he changed the subject again as if he was afraid to hear my answer, "You can drink, you're the only one who can handle it."

I frowned with a pang of discomfort, "Where's your little mistress? She can't go? Young man, better than I can drink."

He said lightly, "Juliana hasn't experienced this kind of occasion, and besides, she's had a cold for the last two days."

"I'm sick too." I looked at him seriously, and I felt an urge to tell him about getting stomach cancer.

We're married, two people facing it is better than one, and I've been hiding it from him since I wasn't diagnosed before. Now, he has a right to know.

Who knows, Everett frowned impatiently and said in a cold voice, "You run to the hospital every day, don't you just want to see Jasper? After being sick for so many years, I haven't seen you die. Isadora, you can really pretend."

Forget it. Forget it. My heart dropped to the bottom, and I swallowed back the words I wanted to say.

Everett won't believe it, and even if he did, he wouldn't care.

They didn't even say it originally, but now there's even less need to say it, and it's just asking for trouble to say it.

I didn't say a word and turned my head back to the bedroom. I could feel his eyes following me until I closed the door and was cut off from the rest of the world.

There were no lights on in the bedroom and it was dark. A sudden wave of aggravation and resentment rose in my heart. It was as if I was the only one left in the world. Even if I died here now, no one would care.

Even Everett would stand up and applaud. His gradual buildup of hatred for me has gotten to the point where it is now.

Countless times, I resolved in my heart, divorce, divorce will be a relief. But I still can't do it.

I always think of what we had, of his knees, of the time he risked his life to marry me.

How did it get this far ...

I don't understand.