sad

My daughter has a sudden allergic reaction, and my husband, an expert in these things, is the only one who can save her. I call him at this critical juncture, but his childhood sweetheart is the one who answers. "Clinton is busy. He wants me to tell you not to call him if it's not important." There's no time for me to get mad. I say anxiously, "Tell him to come to the hospital now. Ivy has had an allergic reaction and is waiting for him to save her." Clinton Reeves says impatiently, "Gemma and I are just watching a soccer match. Do you have to joke around with Ivy's life? I'm so disappointed in you." Later, Ivy dies in the hospital, her body covered in rashes. I wipe my tears and call Clinton once more. I say icily, "Let's get a divorce." The first thing I hear is his and Gemma Walken's laughter. After a while, he says, "Sure, but Ivy is mine."

During a competition, my wife's childhood friend switches my climbing chalk out for flour. When I'm about to win the competition, my hands slip, and I fall from a rock climbing wall that's several feet high. I'm covered in blood. My wife doesn't care about my survival, though. She tells the doctor to prioritize her childhood friend, who's feigned a fainting spell from the blood. Later, I discover that my wife condoned her childhood friend in switching out the chalk. Why did she do it? Because she was worried that her childhood friend, who was never good at physical activities, would be sad if I were to win. Yet, when I lose hope in her and ask for a divorce, she cries and tells me I'm the one she loves.