Nothing My Husband Bought Fit Me
My husband dotes on me. He's always saying I'm the one he cherishes most in this life.
Everyone else envies me too, saying I married well—pampered like a princess.
It all started when I mentioned, offhand, that tailored cuts flatter my figure. From that moment on, he kept it in mind every day, going out of his way to gather all kinds of designer womenswear for me.
In the walk-in closet at home, there's always a wardrobe filled exclusively with my new clothes—each piece haute couture, with exquisite fabrics and impeccable craftsmanship.
On New Year's Eve in our third year of marriage, the house was lively, packed with relatives chatting and laughing.
With a smile, my husband handed me a gift box.
"Go on, open your New Year's present."
The frustration and resentment I'd been bottling up for so long exploded in an instant. I shoved the box to the floor.
"It's the New Year—can you just stop for once?"
The moment the words left my mouth, everyone fell silent.
The relatives' expressions shifted; one after another, they began to scold me for being ungrateful, for not knowing how lucky I was.
My husband looked at me, eyes full of shock and hurt.
"I just bought you some pretty clothes. Why are you angry?"
Amid their pointing fingers and his wounded questioning, I rushed into the walk-in closet like I'd lost my mind, dragging out those designer clothes and throwing them all over the floor.
Everyone stared at me, stunned.
No one said another word.