Chapter 2

The admin immediately tagged me. "Supergirl, it's your first time joining our overnight event, isn't it?"

"Yes," I replied indifferently.

"You're pretty cold—just my type!"

"So what if she's your type? You'll have to draw her first!"

Liam joined in the banter as well. "What's all this nonsense? Can you even handle the ice queen type? How about I break her in for you first, and then…"

He added a smirking emoticon sticker.

Everyone in the group chat started agreeing. "That's right! Sir Johnson has got to be the one who pops the cherry first!"

It seemed like Liam was a known veteran in the group chat.

It wasn't surprising, given the times he'd stayed out all night. Even if room assignments were random, by now, he must have experienced every type of woman there was.

No wonder Liam would refuse to get intimate with me for several days after his cycling trips. It turned out he was already full from sampling others from the streets.

I couldn't suppress the bitterness in my chest for any longer. Heavy tears started falling onto my phone screen.

At that moment, Liam just happened to walk out leisurely after taking a dump in the toilet. He shot me a disdainful look. "What kind of toxic content did you watch again? What's it telling you this time, how to judge whether your husband loves you or not?

"I just don't get it. I give you my paychecks on time, so where do you even get your grievances from? Forget it—I can't be bothered to argue with you. I'm going for a cycling trip tomorrow. You stay home and take care of Emily."

I wiped my tears and stared right at him. "Must you go?"

While I asked Liam, I was also asking myself if I really wanted to get myself involved in this matter.

Taken aback, he immediately snapped at me in disgust, "What kind of crazy fit are you throwing now? I don't visit prostitutes, nor do I gamble. I only have cycling as my one healthy hobby, yet you're still dissatisfied about it. You're really an unreasonable control freak!"

I was stunned, looking at Liam's twisted face. The image of the 18-year-old who once smiled at me shyly had suddenly shattered.

I clenched my fists tight, letting the pain of digging my nails into my palms remind me to keep myself calm. I then coldly spat, "You'd better stay healthy forever, then!"

"I'll damn well outlive you!" Liam pointed at me and scolded, "If you can live with me, then fine. If you can't, get a divorce! Stop making trouble out of nothing every single day!"

He then roughly kicked the trash can beside him. "How unlucky am I to have married such an unreasonable woman like you?"

I found it ironic that six years ago, Liam was the one dressed smartly in a suit and holding a microphone at our wedding venue. He'd gushed over how lucky he was to marry the woman who had stolen his heart since his youth.

At that moment, Emily came out, clutching her pillow and shivering. Her eyes widened in fear at the sight of the scattered trash. With a trembling voice, she asked, "Mommy, are you and Daddy fighting again?"

I quickly wiped my tears away and forced a smile. I then got up to pull her into a hug. "We're not. We're just rehearsing a skit."