Three months after marrying Meng Sinian, I slit my wrists and tried to kill myself.
As my soul drifted in the air,
I thought I would see him weeping bitterly, frantically searching the world for me, or at the very least, kneeling by my grave day and night with my body in his arms, repenting.
Just like in those tragic-death novels, the CEO at the top of the pyramid would go through a desperate chase to win back his wife, turn gray overnight, lose his company and everything else, then kill himself for love.
But none of that happened.
Meng Sinian looked at my body and said, "What a bad omen."
He didn't regret it, and he didn't try to win me back.
Instead, my death made room for Meng Sisi, the orphan girl his family had taken in, and she became Mrs. Meng overnight.
I looked down at the knife in my hand. Time had returned to the day I tried to kill myself.
Why should I kill myself? The one who deserved to die had never been me.
I dropped the knife and walked out of the room.
Before Meng Sinian moved into our marital home with Meng Sisi, I signed my name on the divorce papers.
