My Wife Celebrated Her Junior’s Birthday

When she saw that I did not respond, Amaya slammed her bag down on the sofa. Her impeccably made-up face was full of scorn.

“Are you trying to give me the silent treatment? Javor is just a fresh graduate! Why are you making such a big deal out of this?”

She suddenly caught sight of the paper bag on the coffee table, and her tone softened slightly.

“See how much I think about you? I went out of my way to buy some dessert from Mrs. Sugar’s.”

I had a stomach condition that required me to avoid sweets. This was something I had repeatedly emphasized to her when we got married.

I opened the elegant packaging to find a serving of rich mango pudding.

“Javor said this is their specialty.”

She leaned in to take a look.

“I knew an old-fashioned guy like you would never have tried something new like this. Try it!”

I scooped up a spoonful. The cloying sweetness of the mango exploded on my tongue.

I forced myself to swallow it while fighting the urge to vomit. My throat was already tightening.

“What’s with that face?! You’re deliberately putting on an act to tell me how unhappy you are, aren’t you?”

Before she could finish, I rushed into the bathroom and started retching.

When I returned to the living room, Amaya was grinning stupidly at her phone.

It was not until a rash broke out on my neck that she casually looked up.

“What’s wrong with you? Is the air conditioning too dry?”

“I’m allergic to mango.”

My voice was hoarse. I pointed at the dessert.

“Oh!”

She let out a soft sigh and frantically rummaged through her bag.

“Look how forgetful I am! Javor insisted this one was the best…”

The allergy medicine she handed me had expired six months ago.

Just then, her phone rang with a custom ringtone.

After hanging up, she grabbed her coat and rushed toward the hallway.

“Javor’s livestreaming equipment broke down. Tonight’s breaking news broadcast can’t go on without me!”

She reached the door and turned back. Then, she shoved a bill into my hand.

“Call yourself a cab to the hospital.”

The moment the door closed, I hailed a cab and headed to the hospital.

While getting an IV at the hospital, I scrolled through my feed.

Javor had just updated his social media. The last photo showed Amaya’s back as she crouched to adjust the equipment. It was posted with this caption.

[My dear senior says my livestream’s way more important than some people’s lives!]

In the photo, the wedding ring on her ring finger glinted coldly. Our mutual friends were going wild in the comments:

[Amaya spoils you so much!]

[Let’s just bring the City Hall right to your doorstep!]

I calmly sent Amaya a text.

[Meet me at the courthouse tomorrow at 9 a.m. Let’s get a divorce. I’ll grant you your wish.]

While waiting for the ambulance, I commented under Javor’s post.

[Might I suggest changing the title of the next livestream to “Male Mistress Succeeds in Taking the Lead.”]