Delivered My Childish Toy to His 38-year-old Mistress

I loved collecting limited-edition mystery boxes.

Once, I finally managed to snag a super rare, limited-edition figure.

Overjoyed, I placed it gently on my husband's office desk.

He glanced at it, then casually tossed it into the trash can.

You're twenty-six, Clara. Still playing with toys? Grow up.

My heart sank. Left with no choice, I listed the figure on eBay.

Almost the second it went live, it was bought by a local woman.

She messaged me, saying she lived nearby and asked if I could hand-deliver it to her place.

The moment I stepped into her house, I froze.

An entire wall of custom glass display cases met my eyes, packed to the brim with incredibly rare, astronomically expensive designer toys.

The hostess smiled at me warmly.

"My younger boyfriend bought all of these for me," she said softly.

"I know I'm thirty-eight, but I still love these mystery figures. My boyfriend says that in his eyes, I will always be his little girl. He supports whatever I want to buy."

As she spoke, the front door clicked open.

A man walked in, carrying two cups of Starbucks.

He walked straight over to her, leaned down, and kissed her cheek.

The moment I turned my head and saw his face, my entire body went numb.

This man, who spoiled a thirty-eight-year-old woman like a queen, was the exact same husband who, just yesterday, had sneered and told twenty-six-year-old me that I was being childish. Ethan Smith!

Our eyes met. In an instant, every drop of blood drained from his face.

"Ethan, honey, you're staring. You're scaring her."

Vivian wrapped her arm around his intimacy, then handed one of the coffee cups to me.

"She's Clara. She's the girl who sold me the limited-edition figure."

Ethan forced himself to look calm. He gave me a stiff nod.

"Hello."

But the very next second, he turned his head to Vivian, his voice softening into a gentle tone I had never heard before.

"You don't need to buy secondhand figures anymore. Whatever you want, I'll buy you brand new ones."

Vivian playfully shook his arm.

"Secondhand is fine! Otherwise, my heart aches thinking about how you have to wait in line for hours just to get those limited releases."

I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug deep into my palms. Yet, I felt absolutely no pain.

Just now, Vivian had bragged that this entire wall of toys had been sourced by her boyfriend from all over the world.

One particular figure caught my eye, making my vision blur with tears. It was an overseas exclusive released a year ago. I had wanted it for so long.

Back then, Ethan had been on a business trip to that exact country. I hadn't even dared to ask for the expensive figure itself; I had only quietly begged him to bring back a matching commemorative sticker.

He had frowned coldly and snapped at me:

"I have a mountain of work to handle on this trip. I don't have time to mess around with useless little things."

It turned out he wasn't busy. He just didn't want to spare even a shred of patience for me.

For Vivian, he was more than willing to stand in line for an entire day just to get her the rarest collectibles.

"Oh, Clara, I actually have a duplicate of one figure. Let me give it to you. I'll go grab it from the bedroom."

The moment Vivian turned and ran into the hallway, Ethan lunged forward. He grabbed my arm and dragged me into the corner near the entrance.

"Go home first," he hissed in a low, panicked whisper. "Wait for me there. I'll explain everything when I get back."

My voice cracked. "Explain what? Explain how you've been keeping another woman behind my back? Explain your affair?"

A flash of sheer panic crossed his eyes. He shoved me out the front door and slammed it shut.

My wrist throbbed where he had grabbed me. Tears finally spilled over, hot and uncontrollable.

Through the heavy wooden door, their voices drifted out.

"Where did Clara go? I didn't get to give her the toy yet."

"I just had her leave first."

"She's just a stranger selling secondhand toys. There's no need to get close to her anyway."

Then came the unmistakable, soft sound of them kissing.

I leaned against the hallway wall, my stomach churning with sudden, violent nausea. I almost charged back in to scream at them, but a sudden realization hit me.

My period was a month late.

I stumbled all the way home, my hands shaking as I tore open a pregnancy test in the bathroom.

Two bright red lines.

I was pregnant.

Before I could even process the news, the front door lock clicked.

Ethan was back.

In a panic, I wrapped the pregnancy test in toilet paper and shoved it deep into the trash can.

He walked into the living room. Seeing my deathly pale face, he frowned slightly.

"Why do you look so pale? Are you sick?"

He reached out to touch my forehead, but I coldly flinched away from his hand.

"About earlier, it's not what you think," he said, drawing his hand back with a sigh.

"Vivian is my childhood neighbor. When I was young and my family was struggling to put food on the table, her family practically kept me fed."

"She has congenital heart disease. Before her mother passed away, she begged me to take care of her. I only agreed to pretend to be her boyfriend to keep her stress-free so she can recover."

"So you cheated on our marriage and bought her a whole wall of designer toys just to keep her 'stress-free'?"

My chest felt so heavy, as if a massive boulder was crushing my lungs. I could barely breathe.

"Ethan, I only just realized that you have another home out there!"

"And she is eight years older than you!"

I couldn't control the volume of my voice anymore. My entire body was shaking like a leaf.

"You called me childish for liking these toys, but you flew across the globe just to fill an entire wall for her!"

A flicker of guilt crossed Ethan's eyes, and his tone softened slightly.

"Alright, look. I always thought those toys were stupid anyway. If you want them so bad, I'll buy them for you from now on."

"I'll handle things with Vivian. She has a weak heart and can't take any shocks. Do not go and make a scene in front of her."

I stared quietly at this man I had loved for six years. Suddenly, he felt like a complete stranger.

"Ethan, let's get a divorce."

He assumed I was just throwing a tantrum. A disdainful smirk played on his lips.

"Stop acting up. I'm only taking care of her. It's not like I don't love you. You're the one who holds our marriage certificate. You're my actual wife."

"Besides, you can't survive without me anyway. Don't mention divorce ever again."

"I have to go take Vivian to the movies now. Stay home and stop being so unreasonable."

The front door clicked shut softly behind him.

I squeezed my phone, my fingers trembling as my vision blurred.

Six years of dating. Three years of marriage.

I had poured my heart and soul into this relationship, only to be told not to "make trouble" for his mistress.

Before I could even catch my breath, a Snapchat message from Vivian popped up on my screen.

I am so sorry about earlier. My boyfriend has a bit of a temper, so we couldn't host you properly.

I saved a mystery figure for you. Come over and get it whenever you're free, okay?

I tapped into her Instagram profile. I scrolled all the way to the bottom, reading through years of her posts. Every single caption was about Ethan.

The figure collection I wanted was completely sold out worldwide, but Ethan contacted the manufacturer directly and had a custom set made just for me!

My birthday surprise was a giant box of rare figures. He even skipped a massive business meeting just to wait in line for them. My sweet boy spoils me so much.

I casually mentioned that I liked a celebrity-endorsed figure, and he had it delivered to me the next day. My man always keeps his promises.

In every single photo, there were traces of Ethan.

Years ago, to help Ethan secure his first big business contract, I had drunk myself to the point of vomiting at dinner meetings just to get the investors' approval. All of that, just so he would occasionally have time to accompany me to a toy store.

Yet, he always found the time to snatch up the latest releases for Vivian at the very first second.

By the time I scrolled past her last post, the sharp pain in my chest had faded into a cold, hollow numbness.

I typed back a reply:

No need. I don't want it.

I didn't care about the toys anymore. And Ethan? I didn't want him either.

I immediately contacted a divorce lawyer and packaged every single piece of evidence of his infidelity.

That entire wall of figures in Vivian's house had been bought using our joint marital assets. When we went to court, I wouldn't leave them a single penny.

That night, Ethan came home carrying a brand-new, freshly released luxury box set of figures. He held it out to me.

"Look. Isn't this the series you wanted for months?"

I didn't even look up. I continued folding my clothes.

"Return it. I don't want it."

The smile on his face slowly dissolved into irritation.

"You literally cried begging me for this before. Now that I bought it, you're pushing it away? Stop picking fights on purpose, Clara."

"I really don't want it," I repeated, my voice entirely flat.

"What you owe me is never going to be paid back by a box of toys."

His face darkened completely. "Clara, is there ever going to be an end to this!"

Right then, his phone rang.

In his frustration, he accidentally hit the speakerphone. Vivian's sobbing voice echoed clearly through the quiet room:

"Ethan... my chest hurts so much. I can barely breathe..."

Ethan's face went pale. He spun around to rush out, swinging his arm back violently. His elbow slammed hard into my chest, throwing me violently to the floor.

He didn't even notice.

My lower back collided painfully with the sharp corner of the nightstand. I gasped, cold sweat breaking out on my forehead.

The next second, a sharp, stabbing pain bloomed in my lower abdomen.

"Ethan!"

I grabbed the hem of his coat, my eyes red with sheer terror.

"My stomach hurts so much... please, take me to the hospital first. I'm begging you..."

He yanked his coat out of my grip with an impatient scowl.

"Enough, Clara! Stop using these fake illnesses to compete with her! She is facing a real life-or-death emergency!"

With that, he turned on his heel and rushed out.

The pain in my abdomen grew excruciating. Something warm and wet began to trickle down my thighs.

Using every ounce of strength left in my body, I dialed 911.

By the time the ambulance rushed me to the hospital, it was too late.

Because of the physical impact, I had miscarried.

I lay on the cold hospital bed, my eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. My throat was so dry I couldn't even squeeze out a single tear.

While the agonizing D&C surgery was tearing my body apart, Vivian posted on Instagram.

In the photo, she was nestled comfortably in Ethan's arms while he leaned down, gently rubbing her chest.

The caption read: Ethan was so scared. My heart actually didn't hurt that bad, I just wanted to trick him into coming over to cuddle me. Tehehe, setting this post to "Hide from Ethan"!

Seeing those words, the emotions I had bottled up for years finally shattered. I buried my face in the hospital pillows and sobbed hysterically.

I had waited three years for this baby.

And because of one petty lie from her, my child was gone!

Not long after, another message from Vivian popped up.

Clara, let's meet up.

You really have to take this figure, or I'll feel too guilty to sleep.

My fingers hovered over the screen before typing a single word: Okay.

Perfect. It was time to lay everything out on the table.

The next day, the moment I walked up to the entrance of the designated cafe,

Vivian charged straight at me. Before I could even react, she raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face.

Slap! The sound was deafening.

"Clara, have you no shame?"

Vivian's eyes were bloodshot, her voice shaking with rage.

"I genuinely wanted to be your friend, but you've been seducing my boyfriend behind my back!"

I clutched my burning cheek, my ears ringing.

She unlocked her phone and shoved the screen right in front of my face. It was a photo of Ethan and me holding hands, walking in the park a month ago.

"I went through your Instagram and found out you two have been hooking up for ages!"

"You selling me that figure and coming to my house was just an excuse to brag and hurt me, wasn't it?"

Her crying grew louder, drawing the attention of everyone around us. She clutched her chest, her knees bending as if she was about to kneel on the floor.

"I'm begging you, please. My heart is weak. I can't live without Ethan."

"Please let us go. I'll give you my entire wall of toys, okay?"

The crowd of onlookers began to whisper, pointing their fingers and aiming their phone cameras directly at me.

"How shameless. Being a homewrecker and bullying a sick woman? Doesn't she fear karma?"

I took a deep, freezing breath. I raised my hand and slapped Vivian back with twice the force.

"Your boyfriend?"

My voice shook as I pulled our official marriage certificate out of my purse.

"Ethan and I have been legally married for three years."

"As for you, every single toy in your house was bought with our joint marital assets."

"My lawyer has already prepared the paperwork. I will reclaim every single cent."

The crowd fell dead silent. Then, the whispers shifted:

"Wait, they have a marriage certificate?"

"So the sick woman is actually the mistress?"

Vivian swayed on her feet, her face turning pale.

"No... that's impossible... Ethan told me he was single..."

Before she could finish, a heavy hand grabbed my shoulder and shoved me aside.

"Clara!"

Ethan rushed forward, shielding Vivian protectively in his arms. The gaze he threw at me was filled with pure hatred.

"Who gave you the right to hit her? You know she has a heart condition!"

Vivian clung to his chest, whimpering softly.

"Ethan, tell me the truth... are you married?"

"Am I... am I the other woman?"

Ethan hesitated for a single second.

"No."

"She's delusional. That marriage certificate is fake. She's just a crazy stalker who has been obsessed with me."

Those words pierced through me like icy needles, freezing me in place.

"Ethan, how can you lie like this? We are legally"

His face went completely cold. He grabbed Vivian's hand.

"Vivian, hit her back."

I stared at him in utter disbelief.

"She put her hands on you first. Give her what she deserves. I will never let anyone bully my girlfriend."

His words gave Vivian all the confidence she needed.

Slap!

Another heavy blow landed on my other cheek.

Vivian bit her lip, looking smug. "That's what you get for lying and trying to be a homewrecker. You deserve it."

Then she looked up at Ethan, putting on a worried face.

"But... how did she get such a realistic certificate? Forging legal documents is a crime. Should we call the cops on her?"

A flicker of hesitation crossed Ethan's eyes. The next second, he snatched the marriage certificate from my hands and ripped it into pieces.

The white shreds fluttered to the dirty pavement like drops of cold rain.

I remembered the day we got married. He had held that certificate like it was the most precious treasure in the world, kissing it over and over.

"Clara, you're finally my wife."

But in just three years, for another woman, he had torn our marriage to shreds.

"It's just a fake piece of paper anyway. Now let's see what you use to spread your lies."

His voice was cold and final.

The crowd erupted again:

"So she really is a crazy stalker!"

"What a psycho!"

Ethan's expression shifted slightly, and he seemed like he wanted to stop the crowd from crowding me, but Vivian grabbed his sleeve and collapsed.

"Ethan, my chest... it hurts so much..."

Before he could worry about anything else, he scooped her up in his arms. He threw a quick, cold glance at me before turning and running toward his car.

The angry crowd surged forward. Shoves, curses, and kicks began raining down on me.

But I couldn't feel any pain. The blows felt distant, as if they were happening to someone else.

My vision blurred, and I welcomed the darkness as I passed out.

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in a hospital bed.

Ethan was sitting beside me, holding my hand, his eyes bloodshot with exhaustion.

"You're awake? Don't move. You have multiple soft tissue bruises. You need to rest."

"I've dealt with the people who attacked you. Don't call the police. Let's just let this go."

I slowly pulled my hand out of his grip and let out a dry laugh.

"Mr. Smith, what is our relationship?"

He paused, his brows furrowing. "What nonsense are you talking about? Of course we're married."

My eyes burned, but I just laughed louder.

"Married? Do we have a certificate?"

A flash of guilt crossed his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by impatience.

"Vivian has a heart condition. I had to say that at the moment. Why did you have to bring that paper out to provoke her in public anyway?"

"Did you really want to watch her die right in front of you?"

"It's just a piece of paper. I'll take you to get a replacement certificate once she's stable."

It felt like my heart had been sliced open, letting the freezing winter wind howl through my chest.

I gripped the hospital bedsheets tightly, barely able to breathe.

"Ethan, let me go."

"Let's get a divorce. I'll step aside for both of you."

His breath hitched. A trace of panic flashed in his eyes, and his voice softened.

"I had nothing when we started, Clara. You stayed with me through the worst of it. We are meant to be together for life."

"I'm only taking care of Vivian out of gratitude. As my wife, you should support me."

"Besides, if you hadn't gone to confront her with the certificate, I wouldn't have said those things."

"Just focus on resting. I'll make this up to you."

He stood up and left, leaving the room in deafening silence.

How pathetic.

There were a million ways to repay a debt of gratitude, yet he chose the one that ripped my heart to shreds.

I shook my head with a bitter smile, pulled the IV needle out of my hand, and discharged myself.

My bags were already packed at home. The signed divorce papers were placed neatly in the center of his desk.

As I was about to carry my suitcase downstairs, the loud sound of a drill echoed from the living room. A few construction workers were busy working on the wall.

"Are you Mrs. Smith?"

One of the workers smiled warmly.

"Mr. Smith ordered us to install a custom, floor-to-ceiling glass display wall for your designer toys."

"He paid extra to ensure we used the highest quality materials. Your husband really spoils you..."

Spoil me?

I let out a mock laugh.

I opened my phone, and Vivian's latest Instagram post popped up on my feed. In the photo, she was flaunting a massive five-carat diamond ring on her ring finger.

So glad my man finally cleared up the misunderstanding with that crazy stalker. We are going to be so happy. To all the irrelevant people out there, please disappear.

The comment section was bustling. Someone asked about the wedding date, and she replied with a blushing emoji.

Wedding is tomorrow! Every guest gets a limited-edition mystery toy as a party favor!

I looked down at my own ring finger, where a cheap silver band sat.

When his first business failed and he was completely broke, we had bought this ring from a street vendor for fifteen dollars.

He had held my hand with tear-filled eyes, promising:

"Clara, I can't give you a proper wedding right now, but I will make up for every single thing I owe you in the future."

Now that he was incredibly wealthy and successful, he had all the money in the world to buy grand gesturesbut they were all for someone else.

The glass wall he promised me was never meant for me.

And the diamond ring he promised was now on another woman's finger.

The front door opened, and Ethan walked in. He glanced at the near-complete glass wall.

"Do you like it? I had them rush the installation just for you."

"Yeah."

"By the way," he paused, his tone casual, "I'm going to hold a wedding ceremony for Vivian tomorrow."

"Her heart is failing fast. The doctors said she doesn't have much time left."

"I just want to do a good deed and make sure she doesn't leave this world with regrets."

I smiled softly. "I see."

"You're... not mad?"

He was taken aback, then a look of relief washed over his face. He quickly pulled out his phone and wired a large sum of money to my bank account.

"Don't worry, it's just a fake wedding. Once it's over, I'll take you to get our marriage certificate replaced."

"Go buy whatever toys you want over the next few days. Fill up this wall. I'll check on it when I get back."

I accepted the transfer and nodded. "Okay."

Before he could say anything else, his phone rang. Vivian's voice came through, sweet and needy.

"Ethan, come quickly! Help me choose my wedding dress..."

Ethan immediately turned on his heel and rushed out.

The workers packed up their tools and smiled. "We're all done, ma'am. Are you satisfied with the result?"

I thanked them and sent them on their way.

Once they were gone, I went to the storage room, grabbed a heavy metal hammer, and walked back to the living room. I raised it high and smashed it hard against the glass wall.

Shatter!

With a deafening crash, spiderweb cracks shot across the expensive glass.

One swing to shatter six years of devotion. One swing to destroy every ounce of love I had for him. One swing to end this broken marriage.

"We're done, Ethan."

I dragged my suitcase out the door. Before boarding my flight, I set a scheduled email to go off the next morning.

Attached were my miscarriage report and the photo of the shattered glass wall.

The email body contained only one sentence:

I returned your toy wall. Happy wedding.

I turned off my phone and boarded the plane.

When I landed the next day and turned my phone back on, a barrage of missed calls and texts flooded my screen.