Mag-log inI was having my lunch break when someone anonymously messaged my relationship consultation account. "The system has decided that I only have seven days before my task's deadline is up. What can I do to keep my wife from dying with me before the world itself kills me?" The text continued, "Will it work if I pretend that I cheated on her to make her hate me?" The comments below were filled with mockery. "God, tell your clickbait elsewhere. You're just going to get your arse kicked here." "Geez, grow some balls and just say you want to get rid of your wife. The world's going to kill you? I swear, these scumbags are getting more creative with their excuses." I was a relationship-based content creator who had made it really big, so a bit like this was not all that strange to me at all. I sneered and answered the question, "Cheating's a total cliche. If you want to kill every bit of love she has for you, destroy the memories she holds close to her heart, deny everything she's ever done for you, and make her think she's a complete joke." I continued, "If you want her to shed not a single tear after you die, you have to drench her very soul in hatred." The guy answered immediately, "Thank you. It's going to break my heart, but I'll have to do this." When I got home that night, my husband, who thought of me as his whole world, tossed our photo album into a brazier. That album had been with us for 10 years, and it was a record of our romantic moments. I stared at his face, but his expression was colder than any winter wind, and my heart nearly stopped beating right then and there.
view moreQuincy's funeral was a simple one, as only close friends were invited. There weren't any fake pleasantries or theatrics, nor was there any sad, sorrowful music blaring at max volume.The day of the cremation came. I filled the urn with his ashes myself. When his belongings were sorted out, a staff member found the brooch in the ashes lying within the brazier.The heat had deformed the brooch. A sheen of gray mist had marred the surface of the gemstone and robbed its gleam. However, it was more precious than any gem in the world in my eyes.I clasped it before my chest, where it could sit close to my heart. As long as I had it, it would feel like Quincy was right there with me.Once Quincy's final affairs were handled, I logged into my relationship advisor account. That post for help was still in the backlog.The final message was his. It said, "I'm sorry I messed up."I stared at that single line for the whole night. Then, I came up with a reply, even if there was no one to see i
Now that the truth was finally out, we never once brought up anything about him making me hate him for the next three days. His bodily functions started deteriorating rapidly. The system didn't wipe him out early because he had sort of cheated, but it did take away what remained of his consciousness.He was losing his memory. One moment, he would be sipping from his glass of water normally, and the next, he would ask me who I was.However, Quincy was as gentle as ever. As long as I held his hand, he would calm down even if he couldn't recognize me. For the next few days, I turned my phone off and unplugged the Internet.I didn't go anywhere. I stayed home with him and replayed every moment we'd shared for the last 10 years.I cooked for him on the first day. It was a simple dish, and I put a dash of too much salt. It took nearly everything he had just to eat. He could barely hold his fork.I fed him every morsel. He started crying halfway through. "It's great," he said through a
"I'm telling you to drop the act." I let go of him and wiped the sweat off his forehead. "Your left eyebrow always twitches when you lie. That has never changed, even after 10 years."All the color disappeared from Quincy's face. He shoved me away, genuine panic written all over his face. "I don't know what you're talking about! I cheated! I don't love you anymore! Leave! Get out! Why won't you get out?"His screams were nearly hysterical. He grabbed a pillow and hurled it at me like it was a boulder, not a squishy, harmless thing.The actor was evidently scared. She grabbed her bag and ran off without even asking for payment.Now, we were alone in our house. Quincy was having a meltdown, clutching his head as he sank to the ground in agony. "Why didn't it work? What is wrong with you, Gina? Why won't you hate me even after all that? Come on, hate me already! Please!"He was crying like a child who needed help, but no adult was around to offer any aid. I went down on my knees
The next day came, and I left my bedroom with my eyes red and puffy. The guest room's door was tightly shut, and there was no breakfast waiting on the table. I had woken up to a table that had nothing hot waiting for me for the first time in 10 years.Instead, there was a piece of paper sitting on the surface. It was Quincy's wish list. Well, not exactly. It was a list of how he wanted to make me hate him.The words were scribbled, and some were already muddied from water… No, tears. His tears."Throw the album away (Completed).""Destroy her manuscript (Completed).""Cheat on her (In progress)."The last line made my pupils narrow. My phone buzzed at the same time."I only have four days left. She brought up divorce yesterday, but the progress bar showed that she didn't hate my guts. I'm going for the final step. I found an actor who'd work with me. I'm bringing her home this afternoon.""I'll have her watch me lying in bed with another woman. She can't stand the sight of me f






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