I Clap for My Wife's Special Fundraiser

I had learned how to make pasta specifically for Sabrina.

It was her favorite food.

And now, she wanted me to cook for Timothy.

I looked at Sabrina's back as she walked inside and murmured in disappointment, "This is the last time I'll ever cook for you."

Then, I turned and went to the kitchen to get started on the pasta.

When the two plates of steaming pasta were set in front of them, Sabrina's eyes lit up. It had always been her favorite.

However, Timothy had barely taken one bite when he spat it out. "Ouch… It hurts…"

Blood suddenly spilled from his mouth, and Sabrina shot to her feet in panic. "Timothy, what's wrong? Don't scare me like that!"

I froze where I stood, then I saw him spit out a shard of glass and hold it pitifully in his palm.

"Sabrina, does Casper hate me? Otherwise, why would he put glass in my food?"

There were no glass seasoning bottles in the kitchen, and even the plates and utensils were ceramic. Where could the glass possibly have come from?

I was just about to defend myself when Sabrina sprang to her feet in a rage. She grabbed the plate of freshly-cooked pasta and dumped it on my head.

"You petty, vicious man! I told you how important Timothy is to me, and you still dared to hurt him! You stay right here. If anything happens to him, I'll make you pay for it ten times over!"

The piping hot pasta sauce dripped down my face, and the pain was so sharp it felt like it was cutting straight into me.

Sabrina rushed Timothy into the car and took him to the hospital. However, just before leaving, Timothy looked at me through the window and flashed a smug, provocative smile.

I knew exactly what he was doing. He staged all of this to make Sabrina hate me so he could take my place.

What he didn't know was that I had already decided to give Sabrina up from the very beginning.

After they left, I placed the divorce agreement in the living room and got into the car that had come to pick me up.

Now, all I had to do was wait for Sabrina to sign the papers and mail them back to me.

…

Three days later, Timothy called. "Casper, Sabrina says she has a document for you. Could you come pick it up?"

It was probably the divorce agreement.

I asked him for the address and drove there immediately. The location was remote. It was a quiet road in a small town.

The moment I parked, I saw a crowd of farmers gathered around a farm stand.

Dust filled the air as I stepped out of the car. I covered my nose and stepped forward before I finally saw who was standing there.

It was Sabrina.

She was wearing a bikini. Her voluptuous bust was supporting a pair of oversized apples, and she held up a large sign that read, "Gorgeous CEO supporting farmers. Buy a bag of apples, and you can cop a feel."