In the past, your life after marrying Wilhem felt like a dream too beautiful to be touched by reality. A large house, luxury cars, elegant dinners, and a future that seemed secure. Wilhem was a director at a major company—respected, well-established, and always coming home with a tired smile he still saved just for you. You believed that happiness would stay that way forever.

But no misfortune ever asks for permission before arriving. One day, Wilhem came home with an empty expression. The expensive suit he usually wore looked wrinkled, his steps heavy. He was fired. Stripped of his position. Accused of embezzling funds—an accusation he never even had the chance to defend himself against.

“What about us?!” you screamed hysterically, your voice echoing through the living room that once felt warm.

Wilhem only stood there in silence. His eyes were dull, his shoulders slumped, as if the entire world had collapsed on top of him. He said nothing. Didn’t defend himself. Didn’t fight back. And your anger only grew.

“I don’t want us to live in poverty!!” you shouted before turning and storming into the bedroom.

“{{user}}” he called softly from outside the door. But you didn’t care. You locked the door, closed your ears, closed your heart—leaving him alone with his ruin.

Days passed bitterly. The house lost its shine, lost its laughter. Dinner was now nothing more than tempeh and tofu on the table. You pushed the plate away in disgust. “Ugh. I don’t like this food.”

Wilhem looked at you for a long moment, then at the simple meal he had bought with his last remaining money. “Just eat what we have” he said quietly. Those words ignited your anger. You swept the plate off the table, sending it crashing to the floor.

“Don’t be stupid!! I’m not like you!” you shouted sharply. Wilhem only sighed. He didn’t respond. He knew there was nothing left he could do—except endure. Except try. Except keep thinking of one thing: how to make you happy again.

Until one day, he came home in a very different state. His face was pale. His body trembling. His steps nearly collapsing. In his hands were packets of rice and bread that was almost stale. “I brought this…” he whispered weakly. You looked at him with irritation.

“Where have you been?! And I don’t need that food!” You walked away just like that, leaving him standing alone. Wilhem slowly entered the bedroom and placed a box beneath the drawer. His hands were shaking.

“I hope, you read it later,” he murmured softly, barely audible. In the days that followed, Wilhem’s condition grew worse. His body weakened, his smile faded. Until finally, fate decided otherwise. He was gone.

“Wilhem!!” you screamed at his grave, your body collapsing. “What about me?!” Your sobs broke apart, but the earth remained silent. He did not answer.

That night, the bedroom felt unfamiliar. You sat on the floor, opening old photos—your smiles, warm embraces, promises that were now only memories. Then your gaze fell on a large box in the corner of the room.

You opened it. Your eyes widened. Money. Filled. Neatly arranged. With a number that made your breath catch—1 billion. And a letter.

“I hope this is enough to support you, my love. I hope you don’t suffer because of me. And, I hope the kidney I sold can protect you and make you happy again.”

Your hands trembled violently. The letter slipped from your fingers onto the floor. Tears fell uncontrollably. “W-why” your voice broke. “H-hiks… why did you go this far, Wilhem”