The System Forced Me to Be a Vicious Wife

After my husband went bankrupt, I followed him into a basement apartment.

We were broke, living a miserable existence, and yet he still had to support mehis cruel, demanding, high-maintenance wife.

The System ordered me to maintain this persona.

But my moral compass was too strong; I was wracked with guilt after every cruel act.

So, every time I finished tormenting him, I would secretly cry my eyes out.

In the middle of the night, I crept into his room and lifted the sleeve of his shirt.

A gash, nearly four inches long, jagged and raw, stared back at me.

Hed gotten it working himself to the bone to buy the designer coat I had demanded.

As I cleaned and dressed the wound, tears streamed down my face.

"System," I whispered, "when is he going to ask for a divorce?"

I couldn't stand being cruel anymore. I couldn't stand seeing him get hurt.

The System glanced at my husband's arm, now damp with my tears, then at his eyelashes, which were trembling ever so slightly. It sighed.

Divorce? Honey, it said.

He's planning on loving you for the rest of his life.

1.

"I'm so glad no one took it. See? I told you it was pretty. The ribbon is tied so nicely, too."

It was already ten o'clock at night. I stood under a flickering streetlight, holding the bouquet Id just fished out of the trash, my voice filled with a quiet joy.

The System responded with a cold, humorless laugh.

A handful of cheap roses, some jasmine, and ten-dollar wrapping paper. it sneered. A bouquet that cost less than twenty bucks. And for this, you sneak out in the middle of the night to go dumpster diving? Why don't you just move in there?

I stayed silent for a moment before whispering, "You can be really mean, System."

Another cold laugh.

I didn't have much room to talk. Not long ago, I'd said something just as cruel to Louis.

I had thrown the flowers on the ground right in front of him.

He bent down to pick them up, but I stopped him with a sharp command.

"Other men buy 999 roses. And you? If you don't have money, don't try to act romantic. This is pathetic and embarrassing. Just looking at it makes me sick."

"Can't you make more money? Being this broke marrying you was the worst luck of my life."

It wasn't just the flowers. There was also a small box of fresh strawberries.

His boss had handed them out during a site inspection. Louis hadn't eaten a single one, saving them to bring home to me.

The System rolled its eyes, thoroughly disgusted by my sentimentality.

Can you please stop caring about such meaningless things? Stick to your role! You are the vicious, cruel supporting character. Your only purpose is to humiliate the male lead. I am so sick of you acting like an idiot!

Its voice was sharp, urging me to go back inside.

I pretended not to hear. I crouched down, carefully separating the jasmine blossoms and pressing them flat to use as bookmarks before slowly walking back to our apartment.

Strawberries he wouldn't eat, flowers he went out of his way to buy.

If these things, so despised by the System, were meaningless

Then what in the world had meaning?

2.

Next mission: Force the male lead to buy you a designer coat before Christmas.

And that was the System's answer.

Louis was home early for once, standing on a stool, fixing a faulty lightbulb. The building was old, the wiring shot. It was a constant cycle of fix and fail.

"I bought a small desk lamp," he said, not looking at me. "I'll charge it every day before I leave. If the light goes out again, don't touch it. Just use the lamp and wait for me to get home."

I stood behind him, holding a mug of hot orange juice, my face pale and soft in the dim light.

Louis's hands, once impeccably manicured, were now covered in grime, the palms crisscrossed with tiny cuts.

"I"

After a long hesitation, I finally forced out the scripted lines.

"Christmas is coming. You have to buy me an expensive coat so I can dress up properly. How am I supposed to celebrate Christmas otherwise?"

I showed him a screenshot on my phone, trying to sound fierce.

"This one. You have to get me this one. If you can't, then you're a useless failure, and you shouldn't even bother coming home."

Louis washed his hands thoroughly before taking the phone from me.

He stared at the screen for a long time before looking up, his expression unreadable.

"Is this the only one you want?"

At the same time, the System shrieked in my head.

What the$800?! Are you insane? Where did you even find a coat at that price?

The brand specified in the script was far too expensive. Thankfully, I was resourceful. I had scoured online resale apps. Sure enough, I found the $2,000 coat, barely used, for $800, shipping included.

Getting it for $800 meant Louis would have to work a few less days, shed a little less sweat.

"Is this the only one you want?" Louis asked again.

It was only much later that I understood the complex emotions swirling in his eyes.

There was a time when $800 wouldn't have even bought a single button on one of his suits.

But now, for the woman who had followed him into a cramped, run-down basement, it was an "expensive coat" to be cherished, a chance to feel beautiful again.

When he was on top of the world, I had received nothing from him.

But when he hit rock bottom, I was right there beside him, sharing his hardship.

At that moment, though, I didn't understand. I assumed he thought the price was too high, that I was pushing him too far.

Shame makes people say stupid things.

"Oh, uh, well, I can try to haggle a bit more. Maybe I can get it for less than eight hundred."

I had completely forgotten my persona, my mind consumed by bargaining and panic.

Suddenly, the mug was lifted from my hands. Louis reheated the orange juice and passed it back to me.

"Lipstick," he said softly. "A hat, ribbons for your hair, a Christmas tree, a little cake."

A cold wind howled outside, but inside our tiny apartment, it was peaceful.

He gently guided me to the sofa.

Louis knelt before me, and I found myself looking into a pair of deep, beautiful dark eyes.

"You'll need all those things, too," he said. "To have a proper Christmas."

3.

Louis was a man of his word.

The day before Christmas, I received my gift.

It had a crisp silhouette, soft fabric, and a vibrant color.

The System breathed a sigh of relief.

You almost fooled me. Good thing the male lead bought it from the department store. Hahaha, guess you forgot he has a thing about cleanliness. Who would buy a second-hand coat someone else has worn? Only a complete moron like you

The System's mockery was relentless, but I wasn't listening.

"You said he bought it at the department store?"

After Louis's company went bankrupt, all his old rivals had blacklisted him.

He couldn't get a job at a major corporation or find any respectable work.

He was forced to take day-laborer jobs at construction sites, in warehouses, on the docksanywhere he could sell his strength for cash.

And I, his spoiled, vain wife, would immediately squander every dollar he brought home.

I bit my lip.

"$2,000. Where did he get that kind of money?"

4.

It didn't take long for me to find out.

Someone posted a photo online that quickly went viral because of how handsome the man in it was.

The guy our building management hired to wash windows. Hot, right?

OMG, I want that window washing service for reasons. Why doesn't my building offer this? One star!

I live in this building too. The person on the floor above me has no class. They left a flowerpot on their windowsill, and it fell and hit the poor guy. The gash was huge, blood was pouring out. It was terrifying.

I know, right? And he was so nice about it. He just asked for compensation privately. If it were me, I would have blasted them all over the internet! Let everyone see what a trashy neighbor they are!

That night, I snuck into Louis's room.

It wasn't really a room, just a folding bed in the corner of the living room, sectioned off by a curtain.

Another one of my cruel deeds. I had claimed the only bedroom for myself and refused to let him in.

I lifted his sleeve. Sure enough, there was a gash nearly four inches long, jagged and horrifying.

Dangling 26 stories high, clinging to the side of a building with only a single rope for support, washing window after window under the scrutinizing gaze of strangers

Louis, had you already decided then and there that you would go to the department store to buy me that coat?

"You're hurt, and you didn't even tell me."

The wound had only been hastily cleaned. Louis had acted as if nothing was wrong.

At dinner, he gave me an apple but didn't peel it for me like he usually did. He'd said, "A Christmas apple has to be eaten with the skin on. That way, the peace it brings is whole and complete."

It wasn't that he couldn't peel it. It was that his left hand was injured.

He couldn't hold a knife, so he'd made up a clumsy lie.

A lie that had only fooled his stupid, cruel wife.

As I applied ointment to the wound, my fingers gently brushed over the old scars on his wrist.

This one, from when I had a fever and needed to see a doctor. He'd taken a job hauling bricks and, being inexperienced, had been cut by a tool.

This one, from when I demanded a gold necklace. He'd worked as a bouncer for a night and had been hit with a steel pipe.

And this one, and that one

I tried to control my emotions, but the more I tried, the more the tears fell.

The System attempted to comfort me.

Stop crying. If you ask me, you're the unlucky one. If you'd married him a year earlier, you would have been a billionaire's wife. You would have gotten mansions as wedding gifts. Instead, you get nothing but a basement apartment. What's the big deal about him spending a little money on you?

I was supposed to resent Louis. Resent him for going broke, for being poor, for not being able to give me a good life.

But what about Louis? One day he was a golden boy, the next he was at the bottom of a pit.

Mocked, humiliated, working grueling manual labor under the scorching sun, enduring the strange looks from everyone.

And when he came home, he was met with the accusations of his pampered wife:

"You're a failure. So useless. You can't even buy me a piece of jewelry. If I were you, I would have killed myself by now."

In the dead of night, Louis, when you stare at this damp, cracked ceiling, do you ever think about the man you were a year ago? Ambitious, brilliant, with the world at your feet?

A bitter wind rattled the windowpane. On the bed, the man's eyelashes trembled.

I pressed my cheek to his palm, my tears soaking his wrist.

"System, when is Louis finally going to ask for a divorce?"

I couldn't do this anymore. I didn't want to hurt him again.

This Christmas Eve was dark and bleak. The apple tasted of ashes.

If he could just divorce me, he wouldn't have to work himself to death, right?

He wouldn't have to juggle three jobs a day.

He wouldn't have to get hurt anymore.

Divorce? the System said, its tone dripping with something that sounded almost like pity. Honey, he's planning on loving you for the rest of his life.