Five years into our marriage, He Chen had gone through fifty-five lovers.
Every time he got a new one, he'd send me a boastful text about the new positions they'd tried in bed.
I never got angry. I kept taking care of our daughter, who had autism, just as always.
Until his newest favorite, annoyed by how noisy she was, tricked our daughter into climbing inside a washing machine and turned it on.
By the time I found her, the washing machine was full of blood.
I was devastated. On the way to the hospital with my daughter in my arms, his new lover hit us with her car.
When I called He Chen for help, he was unusually cold.
"Are you still not tired of this act? You even dragged Tian Tian into your lies. Why don't you and your daughter just go die?"
By the time a kind stranger got me to the hospital, my daughter had already died in my arms.
I called He Chen's mother, my face blank.
"Tian Tian is dead, and the contract is void. You promised you'd let me go when the time came."
