He Burned My Future, So I Built a New One

I'd wrecked my body in the countryside, grinding through every last day just to earn that single shot at a city-transfer slot.

And the day before the papers came through, my husband, the party secretary himself, burned my file with his own hands.

All because Olympia Swanson, a city youth from the neighboring settlement, had wept about not wanting to marry the village ruffian.

Luther watched me scream in front of the fire pit, his brow creased with nothing but impatience：

“Even if you stay in the countryside, you're still my wife. You think I'd let you starve?