The Perfect Wife Went Off-Script

The livestream fell silent for a second before the comments exploded.

Nathan didn't lose his temper.

He stood up and took my hand, his thumb pressing against my swollen knuckle.

Pain shot through my fingers, but he turned to the camera with a gentle smile.

"My wife loves our daughter more than anything.

"She knows how hard it is to take care of a household and she doesn't want our daughter to go through the same thing. She may seem tough, but she's always had a soft heart."

The host quickly jumped in.

"So Mrs. Ashford simply doesn't want her daughter to have such a hard life."

Nathan brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his eyes filled with affection.

"She's been on her feet all afternoon, and she's exhausted. We'll end the livestream here. I'll take good care of her."

The stream ended.

The moment the crew walked out, he dropped my hand and wiped the one that had been holding mine.

During the drive home, he spent the entire trip dealing with the PR crisis.

He didn't look at me until his assistant told him clips from the livestream had gone viral.

"Vivian, you're not 20 anymore.

"If you're going to throw a tantrum, at least choose the right time and place. One sentence from you, and I had sponsors and the airline calling me. Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused?"

I stared at my pale reflection in the car window.

Twenty-two years ago, Nathan was a broke college student.

He could barely afford a burger, but he always saved the last bite for me.

He used to tell me that once he became a pilot, I'd never have to struggle again.

Now he was an international airline captain with over a million followers.

And my hands had become too deformed to hold a spatula.

When we got home, Nathan shrugged off his uniform and tossed it at me.

"Take that to the dry cleaner tomorrow."

The scent of rose perfume drifted from the collar.

I never wore that perfume.

Nathan followed my gaze and looked down at his shirt. His expression didn't change in the slightest.

"A first-class passenger brushed up against me.

"Don't start getting paranoid over a little perfume. You're better than that."

Then he pulled a velvet box from his pocket.

Inside was a Cartier necklace.

"Wear it tomorrow and take a photo with me.

"The team will post it. It'll show everyone our marriage is doing just fine."

I didn't reach for the necklace.

"Is this a gift for me, or damage control for your image?"

Nathan's face turned cold.

"What's the difference?

"The house you live in. The clothes you wear. Which of them didn't come from my public image?

"Vivian, you haven't worked a single day in all these years. Is it really that hard to do this one thing for your husband?"

Haven't worked a single day.

I sold my mother's jewelry to pay for his flight training.

When his father spent six years bedridden, I was the one who emptied his bedpan and fed him every meal.

I built his first social media account from scratch. I edited every video and stayed up night after night replying to comments.

By the time he reached a million followers, I'd become the woman who had "never done a day's work."

I picked up the necklace and dropped it into the rubbish bin.

"Nathan, I built that image for you." I looked him in the eye. "I'm done playing the part."

He stared at me for a moment, then laughed.

"Have you spent so many years living off me that you've forgotten what you're actually worth?

"That's all right. I'll remind you."