He Called My Sugar Allergy Jealousy—So I Made Him My Ex Chapter 10

He Called My Sugar Allergy Jealousy—So I Made Him My Ex Chapter 10

Mom froze. I walked out of the bedroom and looked at Derek.

“The baby wasn’t yours?”

Derek shook his head, tears running down his face

“After I got out, I had a DNA test done. She was carrying another man’s baby. I was just… just a

fallback.”

“She was already pregnant when she came to me.”

“She was afraid the father wouldn’t step up, so she needed some poor sucker to pin it on. I just

happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

I couldn’t help laughing.

Derek pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and held it out.

It was a DNA test.

In black and white, it ruled out Derek as the biological father of Megan’s baby.

I looked at the paper but didn’t take it.

“So what do you want?”

Derek looked up at me, all earnest.

“So there was never anything between us. She lied to me. Clara, I never betrayed you.”

“But you were together that one time, weren’t you?”

My words hit Derek like a slap. His face went pale.

I went on. “Do you know if the baby I was carrying three years ago was a boy or a girl?”

He opened his mouth but couldn’t answer.

“You don’t know. You didn’t even know how far along I was.”

“And you still expect me to forgive you?”

I let out a cold laugh.

Derek pleaded, trembling all over.

“Clara, I really messed up. Please, just give me one more chance.”

I turned away without looking at him again.

“I never want to see you again. Leave.”

I shut the door.

Derek stayed on his knees outside for a long time.

Eventually, security came and dragged him away.

About six months later, I ran into Mrs. Thompson, an elderly woman who used to live next door, on

my way home from the market.

She told me that after Derek got out of prison, he’d spent his time looking for Megan.

When he couldn’t find me, he went after her instead

Megan admitted that the baby wasn’t his.

After that, he started showing up outside her apartment every day.

Megan called the police, and they forced him to leave.

Two days later, he came back.

Then one night, Derek had been drinking when he stopped Megan outside her apartment building.

He grabbed her arm, demanding to know why she’d lied.

They argued. Derek lost it and grabbed her by the throat.

By the time someone found them, Megan was already on the ground, face purple. She was dead.

Derek stood nearby, trembling, his hands covered in blood.

He was arrested again. This time, it was for murder

When Mrs. Wang told me all this, I was on the balcony watering the plants.

I set down the watering can and looked at the pothos on the windowsill, its vines trailing down,

lush and green.

My phone buzzed. It was a message from a former coworker.

[Clara, how’s the new shop coming along?]

I replied with two words: [Almost there.]

Three months later, my own flower shop opened.

It was small, about forty square meters, on a street corner with two sweet osmanthus trees out

front.

Mom ran the front. Dad did deliveries.

Opening day brought a crowd–old coworkers, neighbors, and plenty of strangers.

That afternoon, an elderly woman with white hair walked in carrying a little girl.

She bought a bouquet of baby’s breath.

After paying, she looked at me and hesitated.

“I’m Derek’s aunt. You’re a good girl. Our family wronged you.”

Mom came out from the back, her face sour.

The woman didn’t say anything else. She scooped up the little girl and left.

Mom took the baby’s breath out of the vase and put in fresh ones.

“People like that don’t deserve to buy flowers from us.”

I smiled and put the baby’s breath into another vase and placed it on the windowsill.

I put

Flowers are flowers–if they’re pretty, that’s all that matters. Doesn’t matter who bought them.

Some people are like that–they pay for flowers but never take them home.

They leave. And they never come back.