After My Childhood Sweetheart Took Me Away, My Wife Went CrazyChapter 2

So when I found out she was pregnant, I accused Irene of being a liar, stormed over to her place and punched George twice.

After she heard about it, she had people dig up my grandmother’s grave.

In that moment, I felt like I had died. My heart felt like it was being pierced by countless needles, bleeding with every beat.

My face drained of color, ghostly pale. I asked her, “Have you lost your mind?”

When she was down and out of her luck, wasn't it my grandmother who fed her? How else would she have survived this long?

Before my grandmother died, she treated Irene like a granddaughter and divided her life savings into two halves, a half for me and a half for her. She believed we would live well.

She never imagined that ten years later, Irene could actually bring people to dig up her grave.

I let out two hollow laughs filled with ridicule and coughed up blood from my throat.

Irene was unmoved, still drinking casually on the sofa.

“Husband, you were the one who attacked him first. I had warned you, but you didn't listen."

After that day, Irene never came back and stayed with George for several weeks to make him happy. I became like a walking skeleton, living worse than death.

When I saw the trending news about her lighting sky lanterns for George and buying out the entire auction house, I slit my wrists.

As life drained from me bit by bit, the sounds around me faded slowly and a bone-deep cold gradually seeped into me. All I felt was relief and I slowly closed my eyes.

But I didn't die. When I opened them again, Irene stood by my bedside with bloodshot eyes.

She held me tightly in her arms and swore to me, "Husband, you scared me to death. I won't get pregnant again. I promise."

But ... once a person broke a promise for the first time, they would break it countless times throughout their life.

The second time she got pregnant, as someone who had never smoked before, Irene sat on the balcony and smoked through the entire night.

That night, I knew she was wavering. She wanted this child, but her vow to me chained her. George came looking for me. Before I could say a word, he collapsed on his own and claimed I had hit him.

This made Irene furious and she lost her baby and it was also the first time I had ever seen her lose control and in rage.

She grabbed me by the throat, demanding I pay with my life.

“I already promised you! I said I would abort the baby—why did you still hit him?”

That was the second time I brushed past death.

My lungs felt like they were about to explode and the air slowly stripped away from them. Just when I thought I was going to die, I was tossed aside like garbage.

Seeing the undisguised disgust in her eyes, all the explanations I wanted to say got stuck in my throat and choked me, made me sick and filled me with agony.

After that, Irene moved out of the home we once decorated together.

Later, every time I needed to reach her, I had to get George’s permission before she’d even answer my calls.

Two months later, I was diagnosed with a tumor in my head. The doctor said conservative treatment was needed for now and they still didn’t know if it was malignant or benign.

So, I messaged Irene, but it was George who answered it. Then he came to my house to confront me.

“You think faking illness will make Irene come back?”

“Don't be naive. You know what Irene said to me in bed last night? She said seeing your face makes her want to vomit. If you hadn't saved her back then, she would've dumped you ages ago.”

Before leaving, he poured hand sanitizer on the bathroom floor when I wasn't looking.

When I went to the bathroom, I slipped, smashed my head against the ground and blood flooded my vision.

I called Irene, but the line was busy the entire time.