Chapter 3

That would be the best luck the Peterson family had seen in generations!

"Get checked! Go tomorrow! If it's true... I swear I'll take good care of you!"

Gary put the phone down and stared at the ceiling, his eyes turning vicious.

It looked like he had to take drastic measures. This marriage had to end. And he had to make that stupid woman Gloria leave on her own, so she couldn't take a single cent of his property.

To force Gloria into a divorce, Gary pulled the lowest trick he could think of.

That day, he made a point of wearing a white shirt when he went to see Jessica. Afterward, he had her put on her brightest red lipstick and press a hard kiss onto his collar, right where no one could miss it.

The red lip print sat on the white shirt like a gloating sneer.

When he got home, Gary peeled off the shirt and tossed it into the laundry basket.

"Gloria! Wash these clothes!"

He sat on the couch, lit a cigarette, and kept a sidelong eye on the bathroom.

The sound of running water came from inside.

Gloria picked up the shirt. Just as she was about to drop it into the basin, she froze.

The bright red lip print stung her eyes.

The hand holding the shirt began to shake violently. It wasn't a slight tremor. It was the kind of shaking she couldn't control, as if she had a fever chill.

Out in the living room, Gary heard the water stop and sneered to himself. Go ahead, make a scene, cry. Better yet, come storming out and fight me right now, then run home to your family and cry about it. That's exactly what I want.

But the bathroom was dead silent.

One minute passed. Then two.

The water started running again.

Splash... splash...

It was the sound of clothes being scrubbed.

Gloria kept her head down, rubbing soap hard into the red mark. Once. Twice.

Her tears fell in fat drops into the basin, mixed with the soap suds, and disappeared. She bit her lip until it bled, and still she didn't make a sound.

She scrubbed the lip print away. She washed it completely clean, as if it had never been there at all.

While she was hanging the laundry, Gary walked over and asked, trying to sound casual, "Did the clothes come clean?"

Gloria kept her back to him and hung the shirt on a hanger, her hand still trembling slightly.

"Mm. They came clean." Her voice was hoarse, like there was sand in her throat.

Gary stared at her back and cursed silently. Damn, she can put up with anything! She can even swallow this?

"Gloria, are you simple or something?" Gary stepped closer, deliberately goading her. "Didn't you see what was on it?"

Her hand paused on the hanger.

She turned around. Her deeply lined face showed no expression at all. Only the rims of her eyes were red.

"I saw it."

"You saw it and you don't have a damn thing to say?" Gary pressed.

"That was... it must have rubbed off on you by accident." Gloria lowered her head, avoiding his eyes. "From now on... be more careful when you eat out."

Gary was stunned. His mouth fell open, and he looked at the woman as if she were some kind of freak.

It rubbed off while he was eating?

Who rubs a lip print onto himself at dinner?

Was she playing dumb, or was she really that dumb?

"Fine! You win!" Gary jabbed a finger at her, livid. "Gloria, you've been a spineless doormat your whole life! You deserve every bit of what you get!"

He slammed the door on his way out and went to find Jessica, the one who could really make him feel "like a man," for some comfort.

Gloria stood on the balcony and watched that familiar figure walk away below, until he vanished into the night.

The wind tousled her gray hair.

She reached over and touched her fingers, still red from scrubbing the shirt.

"A spineless doormat, am I?" she murmured to herself.