Blurb：
On their third Christmas as husband and wife, Alexander shattered Jasmine’s world with icy words: “From today on, you need to learn to be completely independent.”
Jasmine clung to hope—until a scooter accident left her bleeding, and Alexander dismissed her plea for help.
Three months later, her mother’s late-stage lung cancer diagnosis brought her to her knees. Alexander offered a plane ticket and a bank card but refused to accompany her, claiming a critical project.
The truth? He was at Paris Fashion Week with his secretary, Chloe.
As Jasmine’s mother drew her last breath, asking for Alexander, Jasmine lied to protect the illusion of their marriage.
Devastated and alone, Jasmine spiraled into depression, but Alexander callously tossed her diagnosis in the trash, labeling her pain as weakness.
When tragedy struck again—her father’s suicide—Jasmine’s world crumbled. Alexander’s final cruelty? “The dead won’t come back to life.”
Amid gravestones and chilling winds, Jasmine realizes: some vows are meant to be broken.
Content：
Our third Christmas together as a married couple.
Alexander put down his glass of milk that ordinary cold morning.
His words was colder than the winter wind outside.
Jasmine, from today on, you need to learn to be completely independent. You can’t rely on me for everything.
He took a slow sip.
From now on, handle your own problems.
Back then, I still held onto a sliver of hope.
I thought it was just careless complaining under the intense pressure of his work.
Until a week later. I was on my scooter, delivering some forgotten documents for him, when a car swiped me.
My knee was scraped raw, bleeding badly. Desperately, I called him for help.
All he said was, There’s a clinic right at the entrance to our complex. Go get yourself bandaged. I’m in a board meeting.
Clutching my blood-soaked pants leg, I trembled in pain on that cheap clinic chair.
Suddenly, I remembered the vows he made at our wedding three years earlier.
He knelt on one knee, sliding the diamond ring onto my finger.
His eyes sparkled like stars, Jasmine, I’ll be your support for life. You just focus on being the vibrant, joyful woman you are. Leave everything else to me.
Those vows still echoed in my ears.
But the man who promised to cherish me forever now saw my pain as nothing but a nuisance.
The real winter came three months later.
My mother was diagnosed with late-stage lung cancer. The news was a physical blow.
I rushed into Alexander’s office, my legs buckling beneath me.
Alexander, come back to my hometown with me. My mom wants to see you one last time.
He was reviewing documents, his pen pausing briefly on the paper.
He pulled a plane ticket and a bank card from his drawer and pushed them toward me.
This is all I can do for you. The project is at a critical phase. I can’t get away.
The date on the ticket was painfully soon. The amount on the bank card was coldly generous.
I later found out his so-called critical phase was attending Paris Fashion Week with his secretary, Chloe.
In her final moment, my mother kept grasping my hand, asking again and again, Why hasn’t Alexander come back?
I could only lie and say he was working hard for our future.
Then I hid at the end of the hallway, crying until I nearly passed out.
The long-term emotional isolation was a slow, grinding torture.
I started suffering from insomnia, I lost my appetite.
During emotional breakdowns, I’d even bang my head against the wall, trying to silence the noise inside.
When the psychiatrist handed me the depression diagnosis,
I clutched the paper like a lifeline, foolishly hoping it might finally earn a shred of his pity.
But he took it, glanced at the heading, and tossed it straight into the trash.
The crinkle of the garbage bag was deafening.
Stop being so dramatic. There’s no such thing as depression,he said, not looking up from his phone.
Depression is just an excuse weak people use to get sympathy.
I stared at the crumpled paper in the trash.
The hole in my chest hurt more than the wound on my knee.
After that, I learned to go to follow-up appointments alone.
I handled my mother’s treatment plans by myself.
Until one late night,the call came. My father’s voice was ragged, stripped raw,
Your mother she’s gone.
At her funeral, I cried until I had no tears left, until my grief was a numb, heavy stone.
My father’s hair turned white overnight as he kept vigil.
The next morning, he jumped from the hospital rooftop.
In one day, I lost both my parents. My world crumbled into ruins.
I called Alexander, my voice shaking uncontrollably,
Please… come back. Help me with the arrangements.
I heard Chloe’s light laughter in the background.
Alexander covered the receiver, impatience sharp in his tone.
The dead won’t come back to life. Even if I returned, would it bring your parents back?
Jasmine, you know how busy the company is right now.
The dial tone buzzed in my ear.
I stood amidst the gravestones, the cold wind biting through my clothes.
The sympathetic looks from the few mourners felt like needles pricking my skin.
I arranged the funeral alone.
I chose the caskets alone.
I walked alone, carrying my parents’ ashes to their final resting place.
A bitter gust of wind made my head spin.
My vision went black, and I collapsed in front of the tombstone.
When I woke, the hospital room smelled of disinfectant.
A doctor with red-rimmed eyes told me, Ms. Jasmine, you’ve had a miscarriage. The baby was just two months along.
I stared at the bloodstains on the sheets, my mind blank.
The child we’d waited three years for had left without a sound.
Despair washed over me whole.
I fumbled under my pillow for a fruit knife and slashed my wrist without hesitation.
As blood gushed out, I felt an eerie sense of relief.
Maybe now I could catch up to my parents and my child. Maybe now I could escape this ice-cold marriage.
On the way to the ER, the gurney bumped against the corridor wall with a dull thud.
In my blurry vision, I suddenly saw Alexander.
He was wearing an elegant suit, bending over Chloe, his voice dripping with tenderness,
Doctor, please check her quickly. Her heel is bleeding from her new shoes. It must be terribly painful.
Chloe gave him a playful shove. It’s just a small scratch, don’t make a fuss.
Not to me. Any hurt is too much.
Alexander’s eyes were red as he gently touched Chloe’s heel.
If it hurts, tell me. I’m here, you don’t have to be afraid of anything.
In that moment, the blood in my veins seemed to freeze solid.
It wasn’t that he’d suddenly started valuing independencehe just didn’t love me anymore.
His tenderness, his protectiveness, his unwavering support
they hadn’t vanished. He’d just gifted them to someone else.
And I? I was just the discarded ex, worthless in his eyes once he’d weighed the pros and cons.
The ER lights glared harshly,
illuminating every foolish hope and stubborn attachment I’d clung to all these years.
The doctor held my bloodstained phone, dialing the emergency contact for the tenth time.
Finally, Alexander’s impatient voice came through.
Is this Jasmine’s family? Your wife attempted suicide by cutting her wrist. She’s lost a critical amount of blood and is in grave condition. We need you here immediately to sign
She’s not dead yet, is she? Let her sign them herself.
In the background, Chloe’s soft voice chimed in, Alexander, maybe you should go be with her. I’ll wait here for the results alone.
No need, Alexander cut her off, his tone instantly softening. She’s strong. She’s not fragile like youyou need someone to take care of you always.
The doctor’s face palmed, he covered the receiver quickly.
But those words, like poison-tipped needles, had already pierced my ears.
Alexander was still speaking, his voice low but clear.
Tell Jasmine to stop with these childish games. She should suck it up and move on!
The doctor’s voice rose in frustration. She just had a miscarriage and is in hypovolemic shock! Without a family member’s signature, we can’t proceed!
A scoff came through the phone, laced with unmistakable scorn.
She’s been afraid of pain since she was a child. There’s no way she’d really cut her wrist.
Go on, how much did she pay you to play along with this charade?
He paused, then spoke louder, as if addressing me directly.
Jasmine, if you really want to die, then do it properly. Don’t make a mess for others to clean up.
The dial tone hit abruptly, like a sledgehammer crushing my heart.
When the doctor redialed, the number was no longer reachable.
The monitor screamed a sharp alarm, my blood pressure kept dropping.
My consciousness drifted in darkness
Gathering the last of my strength, I tugged the doctor’s white coat, whispering weakly,
If I die scatter my ashes at sea
I didn’t want to have anything left of me to dispose of.
From this moment on, he meant nothing to me.
But if I survive
Images of my parents’ smiling faces and my unborn child flashed before me. “…I will leave him forever.”
Then, nothingness.
When I woke again, sunlight streamed through the hospital window, warming the blankets.
Doctors and nurses surrounded my bed, their eyes red.
Ms. Jasmine, you’re finally awake!
The chief physician gripped my hand, emotional.
We thought we’d lost you
Whatever you’ve been through, please don’t gamble with your life again.
A young nurse handed me a cup of warm water, her voice choked.
If heaven didn’t take you, it means something better is waiting for you.
They gave me gentle hug after gentle hug.
Those warm embraces felt like a lifeline.
Suddenly, I wonderedif Alexander had held me like that at my lowest,
would I have ended up at here?
When we were dating, he’d take long detours just to pick me up from work.
He’d stay up all night to take care of me when I had a cold.
He’d shield me from anyone who wronged me.
But now, all his tenderness went to someone else.
He saved the coldness and cruelty for me.
During my two weeks in the hospital, Alexander never showed up.
Not even a single message.
As if I were just a stranger who’d briefly passed through his life.
I slept most of the time, trying to escape reality through dreams,
but often woke to conversations in the hallway.
Did you see that man yesterday? His wife just twisted her ankle, and he was doting on her like she was a princess.
Yeah, the contrast is brutal. The one in our room had a miscarriage and tried to kill herself, and her husband’s nowhere to be seen.
I kept my eyes closed,
my mind replaying my mother’s tearful eyes before she died,
my father’s falling figure,
and Alexander holding Chloe, saying, You need someone to take care of you always.
My heart felt scorched, reduced to silent ashes
I couldn’t even cry.
During rounds, the chief physician saw I kept my eyes shut all day.
He sighed softly, Notify psych for a consult. Her psychological trauma is worse than her physical injuries.
This time, I didn’t refuse.
The sessions with the therapist slowly lightened the weight on my soul.
Once the antidepressants kicked in, the weight on my chest lightened.
I finally found the courage to face this rotting marriage.
For three years, Alexander had pushed for a child, saying it would bring life into our home.
I had believed, naively, that a baby could fix us, could bring back the man I married.
Even after my depression diagnosis,
even when doctors advised treating my mental health before trying to conceive,
I forced myself through the pain, seeking help everywhere.
But when I finally got pregnant, he didn’t even care.
He never knew about the baby until it was gone.
I called my lawyer, my voice unnervingly calm.
Draft the divorce papers.
On discharge day, I contacted Alexander.
He answered the video call instantly.
On his end was a luxurious hotel suite with a glittering city view.
Alexander wore a silk robe, his hair still damp.
Seeing the hospital behind me, he raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a familiar smirk.
Trying to win me back with a fake suicide act? You’re really going all out.
He lounged on the sofa. In the reflection of the glass behind him, I could just make out the silhouette of a womanChloe.
The nurse changing my bandages couldn’t hold back.
Sir, your wife just had a miscarriage and attempted suicide! How can you say that?
Instantly, Alexander’s expression shifted
from scorn to deep, overwhelming concern.
His voice trembled. Jasmine, you were pregnant? When? Why didn’t you tell me something so important?
He jumped up, making a show of looking for his bag.
I’ll suspend my projects right now and fly to you. Wait for meplease don’t do anything reckless.
He sounded so sincere, even the nurse was stunned.
As if the man who’d told me to die properly never existed.
I laughed coldly inside and ended the call.
Within half an hour, my hospital door opened softly.
I thought it was Alexander, but it was Chloe,
holding a huge bouquet of lilies and a luxury shopping bag.
She walked in with a gentle smile.
Mrs. Thorne, Alexander was so worried when he heard about the baby, he sent me to check on you right away.
She placed the flowers and the bag on the bedside table, subtly tugging at her slightly wrinkled blouse. A dark, fresh love bite was visible on her neck.
I came in a hurry, so I didn’t bring much. This was a birthday gift Alexander gave me earlier. If you don’t mind it being secondhand, please take it.
Chloe was flaunting her victory in front of me.
I closed my eyes, trying to push the ugly images from my mind.
I didn’t even want to speak to her.
But she leaned close, her breath hot in my ear, voice venomous:
Jasmine, I’m shocked you could still get pregnant after all those expired birth control pills you’ve been taking. Your body really is special.
My heart lurched, my eyes snapped open.
Her gaze dropped to my abdomen.
In that moment, I understood everything.
Those white pills I thought were calcium supplements.
The years of confusion over my inability to conceive.
It all made sense now.
A white-hot rage surged through meI slapped her hard across the face.
Chloe clutched her reddening cheek, her eyes instantly wet.
Her voice rose, dripping with manufactured hurt:
Jasmine, I know you resent Alexander for making you independent, but he only wants what’s best for you! He pushes you because he loves you!
She stepped forward, tears welling, looking pitiful.
Do you have any idea how hard he works to provide for you? Stop torturing him, okay?
Get out, I coldly cut off her performance.
But Chloe suddenly grabbed my injured wrist.
I tried to pull away, she exaggerated the motion, falling back against the bedside table with a dramatic cry.
As she landed in the mess, she did something inexplicable. She lifted her own hand and delivered a sharp, hard slap to her own face.
Before I could process why, the door burst open.
Alexander stood there, his face dark with fury.
Alexander’s eyes locked on Chloe on the floor, filled with instant panic.
He rushed over, carefully helping her up.
His fingers gently traced the red mark on her cheek, his voice thick with worr.:
Chloe, are you okay? Are you hurt?
He checked her over, then turned his furious gaze to me.
Disappointment and rage poured out of him.
Jasmine! How could you!
Chloe came here out of kindness! How could you bitch be so vicious? How dare you hit her!
His voice shook with anger.
She started I tried to explain.
Enough! Alexander cut me off, his eyes cold and unfamiliar.
I don’t want to hear your excuses! I never knew you could be so jealous and vicious!
He pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over the screen as if to make a call,
Apologize to Chloe now, or I’ll take you to get an abortion myself!
I stared, stunned. How could he say that?
From under my pillow, I pulled out the bloodstained miscarriage report.
I laid it quietly in front of him.
No need. The baby’s already gone.
He snatched up the report. His face went pale, then quickly flushed again with anger.
Jasmine, you disappoint me. Faking a pregnancy to manipulate me?
Watching him twist the truth, I felt a cold laugh bubble up.
For three years, I’d played the clown, desperately holding together a marriage already rotten.
And he? He saw me as a weak vine that needed his support to survive.
Always guarded, always calculating.
But he never knew.
His startup funds came from my grandfather.
His first major client was a connection from my uncle.
His so-called self-made success was built on my family’s backing.
From the nightstand, I took out the prepared divorce papers.
Seems we need to redefine our relationship. Sign these. Let’s end this cleanly.
On the pristine pages, the terms of the asset division were laid out in stark detail. The offshore accounts he thought I knew nothing about. The marital assets he’d been secretly transferring. The apartment and the sports car he’d bought for Chloe with my money.
Alexander’s pupils contracted sharply.
He snatched the papers, How do you know all this?
I looked at him calmly.
Did you really think I was too stupid to notice?
Jasmine! He tore the agreement, his voice twisting with rage.
So you’ve been guarding against me, scheming against me, all this time! You played your part well!
Played a part? I laughed, the sound hollow and cold.
I played the loving wife for three years. Played tolerant and understanding.
Played until I had to handle my parents’ funerals alone.
Alexander, tell mewho’s the real actor here?
He froze, then sneered, You want a divorce? Fine! But you won’t get a cent!
Everything I built from scratchwhy should I share it with a woman who clings to men?
Without me, you’re nothing!
Staying with you is what would destroy me, I said, no trace of warmth left in my gaze.
The moment you saw my dependence as a burden
my love as a joke
my life and death as a game
I stopped being your wife.
Alexander trembled with fury, teeth clenched: Want a divorce? Fine! But you leave with nothing! You bitch get nothing!
Download the NovelGo app, Search 【 321841 】reads the whole book.
