The Kiss of Death

Eleanor placed some documents on the table and poured me a glass of warm water. She then began saying, "Ivy, I have a few questions to ask you. Don't worry, just answer honestly."

The weather was chilly, so I wrapped my hands around the cup. The warmth gradually revived my icy fingers.

"What was your relationship with your husband like?" she asked.

"He treated me well, but…"

I covered my face with my hands, and my eyes welled up with tears again. As his image came to mind, tears streamed through my fingers, and I sobbed uncontrollably.

"It was all my fault. I could never meet his expectations. He always said no other wife would be as incompetent as me. I feel like such a failure…

"He said a woman should be capable of both hosting in the living room and cooking in the kitchen, but no matter how hard I tried, my cooking never satisfied him. I could barely earn a few thousand a month and was no help to his business…" I stammered.

Those were his exact words.

Chester was an expert at psychological manipulation. To him, I was a worthless woman, incapable of doing anything right and unwanted by anyone but him.

He dismissed every achievement I celebrated and the joy I experienced as insignificant. Meanwhile, he magnified all my flaws endlessly.

After we got married, he repeatedly badmouthed my closest friends and convinced me to cut ties with them. I was completely infatuated with him at the time, obeying his every word.

I then ended up with no friends.

Under his constant manipulation, I fell into deep self-doubt. My temper worsened, and I became a shadow of myself.

Eventually, I met Dr. Evelyn Callaghan, my mother-in-law's younger sister, at their family home. She was a well-known psychologist in the area.

She diagnosed me with bipolar disorder, prescribed medication, and gave me professional advice and guidance.

But despite undergoing repeated treatment, my condition didn't improve—it only got worse.

As tears streamed down my face, I confessed, "I have such a bad temper, and now I need medication… I'm such an unfit wife…"

Over the five years of our marriage, Chester constantly reminded me of my failures and inadequacies. I deliberately kept detailed records of it all.

Eleanor had taken my phone earlier, and I knew she must have read through the messages by now. My sobs grew louder and louder, echoing in the room.