Chapter 7: Amla—Freeloader to You
I was utterly stunned, unable to believe what I heard. “Ivette, do you still think I’m joking? I’ve told you again and again that we should get divorced. I’ve even signed the…”
Yvette stood tall, her elegant figure leaning closer. “Owen, playing games might be intriguing the first time, but it becomes tiresome after two or three times. Enough with the charades. Go home. You know I’m not a patient woman.”
I looked at her inscrutable expression and couldn’t help but laugh in exasperation. “Ivette, can you stop thinking so highly of yourself? What? Am I supposed to wither and die without you in my life? I’m saying this one last time: I want a divorce, and I’m not joking. I’m dead serious.”
She crossed her arms, a condescending smirk on her face. “Isn’t this all about money? Just name your price. I don’t have time to waste on this nonsense. And don’t even think about…”
Her words hit like a slap. My face burned, and an old, familiar feeling of humiliation welled up inside me. I had felt this way before—she had laid it all down on me, crushing my self-esteem without a second thought.
Forceful emotions I couldn’t explain—anger—singed through me. I shoved her, not really, but I did push her back a couple of steps.
“I’d rather not have your money!” I spat. “Stop assuming that everyone sees the world the way you do. Have you read the pre-nuptial agreement? There’s nothing in it about splitting…”
Caught off guard and unsteady in her high heels, Yvette stumbled back a few steps.
Branding me “lazy,” Nancy burst out laughing. “Wow, Yvette, I never thought I’d see the day. Someone’s finally standing up to you! And you’re seen arguing with a man. This is a first!”
Nancy, quieter but still amused, gave me a thumbs-up. “Owen, you’re doing great. You’ve been too indulgent with Yvette, catering to her every whim. Now that you’re fully standing up for yourself, she’s finally behaving.”
“Shut up!” Yvette and I shouted at the same time.
Nancy pouted slightly. “Time’s up. But just one last thing, Owen. Yvette has been pampered her whole life. She gets everything she wants, and there’s always a crowd of men chasing after her. She’s never had to take the initiative, so don’t be mad at her…”
“Plus, her stomach was acting up again this morning. When I checked on her, she was almost writhing in pain. She won’t eat anything. She’s probably still in pain now. And the only food she likes is the food you cook…”
Before she could finish, Yvette’s glare silenced her. “Nancy, I dare you to say one more word.”
This time, Nancy stopped talking. She pulled her secretary back a few steps for good measure…
I hadn’t expected Yvette not to run straight to her “prince charming.” How could she not notice such a palatable opportunity?
Before I could dwell on it, Yvette’s voice ripped through my thoughts. “Owen, in the year we’ve been married, tell me how many of your clothes, accessories, and other…”
“Without a woman to depend on, can a useless freeloader like you survive? I’ve said it already—if you want money, just say it! Stop using divorce as an excuse!”
“Move back in today and return everything you took. Every single thing must be back in its place. Otherwise, you’ll never set foot in that home again.”
Her sharp, dark eyes bore into me as if she were utterly convinced that I was just playing games and would inevitably crawl back for her money.
I was furious, and my chest heaved with each breath. I couldn’t hold it in anymore and laughed bitterly.
In our previous lives, she was generous with money before the divorce. Whatever I wanted, she bought it without hesitation.
But I never asked for much; I just wanted gifts to mark special occasions and build memories…
I gave her gifts, too, though she never accepted them. Eventually, I switched to cooking for her—if she gave me something, I would make her favorite dish.
I thought it was a sweet, playful tradition between husband and wife. But in her eyes, I was nothing more than a freeloader. She bought me things, but did so only to brush me off, like she was dealing with a pet, not out of genuine affection.
Even now, after a second chance at life, the pain of that realization still stung, a bitter pill to swallow.
Power, listen carefully. Your money means nothing to me. If it weren’t for marrying you and becoming a househusband, I wouldn’t have had to ask you for anything.
“Since we’ve both soured on each other, let’s cut the noise. I’ve had enough of this humiliating existence. Let’s end our marriage and never cross paths again! Even if I were starving to death, I wouldn’t take a penny from you!”
With every word spoken, her face darkened even further.
“You can take back everything you’ve bought for me. And the stuff I took—whatever you paid for, I’ll return every last bit.”
“I’ve really seen it all now. I went out of my way to pack it all up and clear the space for your next girlfriend, but you demand I bring it all back and put it exactly where it was? Unbelievable. I’ve met stinging people before, but you take the cake.”
“I wonder you don’t deserve any man, Yvette. Marrying you was the worst decision of my life!” I was practically screaming, and I had already decided to take off my clothes and return them.
Yvette’s face contorted in fury, a rare sight of her truly losing her temper. This time, she didn’t try to stop me. She simply turned and walked away.
She must have been livid. After all, she had bent over backward for her dream man, and I had humiliated her by pointing out her flaws. She couldn’t stand it.
Behind me, Nancy’s barely audible giggling was clearly audible. “Owen, amazing! I’ve never seen anyone call Yvette out like that before. I like it. You’re welcome to visit me anytime. And hey…”
Then, Nancy’s secretary whispered something in her ear. She looked up at me, her expression full of surprise.
Great. She must have overheard Voelle calling me a useless freeloader. Now, the figure to apply for the lead artist position…
What a mess. Of all the places to look for work, I ended up at Yvette’s friend’s company. And after everything that happened, Nancy must think I was completely insufferable.