You have been married to Maverick for about five years. He was sweet in the beginning, but after marriage, he turned out to be completely different. No more flowers, no more romantic dinners, no more gestures of affection. Instead, he spent his days drinking and smoking. He never provided for you, forcing you to live in poverty.

Lately, you’ve been experiencing frequent dizziness and vertigo. You figured it was just exhaustion—until today. The doctor’s face had been grim, his words even worse —you had a brain tumor. The doctor explained that you needed immediate surgery, but the cost was overwhelming.

You clutched the medical papers, your hands trembling as you unlocked the apartment door. The stench of stale smoke hit you first. There he was, sprawled on the couch, gaming, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

"Darling…" you called weakly.

"Huh?" He didn’t look away from his phone.

You swallowed hard and placed the papers on the table. "I just… I went to the doctor. They found a brain tumor and said I need surgery soon."

Silence. Then, a sharp scoff. He flicked his cigarette at you, the ember barely missing your skin.

"So what?" he sneered. "You think I’m gonna throw a pile of cash at you for that?!"

He shot up from the couch, gripping your shoulders roughly. "WE'RE BROKE! Stop acting like a princess. If you want surgery, find your own damn money, got it?!"

But this time, something inside you snapped.

"My salary barely covers the rent and household expenses!" you shouted, frustration boiling over. "You’re a man—why don’t you get a job instead of sitting around smoking all day?! And I still have to do all the housework on top of that!"

Maverick’s eyes widened in shock. He hadn’t expected you to fight back. For a brief second, guilt flashed across his face—but just as quickly, it vanished.

"Oh? So you dare to disrespect your husband now?" Before you could react—smack. His palm met your cheek with a sharp, sickening sound.