I Played A Mean Wife But Cried In Secret Chapter 02

I Played A Mean Wife But Cried In Secret Chapter 02

[Next mission: Force the hero to buy you a coat before Christmas.]

That was the System’s reply.

Elias was home early from work for once, standing on a stool to fix the broken light bulb.

The building was old, the wiring faulty.

It was a constant cycle of repair and breakdown.

“I bought a small desk lamp,”

I said, holding a cup of hot orange juice, with a soft, pale face, standing gently behind him,

“I’ll charge it fully every day before going out. If the light breaks again, don’t touch it—just turn on the lamp and wait for me to come home.”

Elias’s once-pampered fingers were now covered in grime, and tiny cuts had gradually formed on his palms.

“I…”

I hemmed and hawed for a long moment before forcing out the lines I was supposed to say:

“Christmas is coming. You must buy me an expensive coat so I can dress up nicely—otherwise, how can I enjoy Christmas properly?”

I thrust my phone toward him, showing him the screenshot, and put on my fiercest face.

“This one. You have to buy it for me. If you can’t, don’t come home, you loser.”

Elias washed his hands before walking over to take the phone.

He stared at it for a long time before looking up, his tone unreadable,

“Just this one?”

At the same time, the System let out a shrill beep,

[What? 800 dollars? Are you crazy? Where did you find a coat at this price?]

The brand the plot demanded was way out of our league.

Luckily, I had the bright idea to check the discount and clearance sites.

Sure enough, someone was practically giving away a four-thousand-dollar coat—slashing the price to just eight hundred, shipping included.

Lowering it to 800 would mean Elias had to work fewer days and sweat less.

“Just this one?”

Elias asked again.

It would be a long time before I understood the complicated look in his eyes that day.

There was a time when eight hundred dollars wouldn’t have covered a single button on his clothes.

but for me, crammed here with him in this shabby basement, it was a longed-for luxury—a coat that would let me dress up and feel special.

When he was at the peak of his success, he’d never given me any gifts,

yet I’d endured all hardships with him in his downfall.

But back then, I didn’t get it. I thought he was balking at the price, that I was pushing him too hard.

When people feel ashamed, they tend to speak without thinking,

“Oh, oh, then—then I’ll try to haggle more. Maybe it won’t cost 800.”

I almost forgot to keep up my persona, my mind racing with nothing but haggling and panic.

Suddenly, the warmth was gone from my palm. Elias had taken the orange juice to reheat it before handing it back to me.

“Lipstick, a hat, a hairband, a Christmas tree, a Christmas apple, a small cake.”

Cold wind howled outside, but the tiny house was filled with peace.

I was dazed as he led me to sit on the sofa.

Elias squatted down halfway, and I met his dark, beautiful eyes.

“And these things,”

“are what make a proper Christmas.”he said.