Chapter 2My Wife Was Obsessed With Buying Cheap Junk on Temu

While I was smoking downstairs, I happened to run into my 8th-floor neighbor, Vivian Wright.

She was rushing out in a panic and almost crashed right into me by the door.

Seeing she was about to fall, I quickly reached out and caught her.

She felt really soft.

I couldn't help but think back to the first time I held Hazel's hand.

It's a pity that holding Hazel's hand now felt exactly like my left hand holding my right hand.

No spark whatsoever.

"Oh, Arthur! I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

Vivian blushed and apologized to me.

I smiled, told her it was no problem, and asked her why she was in such a rush.

Vivian said her floor drain was clogged, so she was going to find the property manager to take a look.

I pocketed my cigarettes. "The management office is probably closed by now. If you're in a hurry, do you mind if I come up and take a look for you?"

Vivian's apartment had the exact same layout as mine, but looking around, everything felt refreshingly clean and comfortable.

There was no cheap, cluttered junk on the table; instead, there was a blooming bouquet of roses.

Vibrant and fresh.

You could tell at a glance she took meticulous care of her home.

The bathroom had a diffuser that smelled elegant and inviting.

The skincare products lined up on the vanity were all high-end brands I recognized.

The entire apartment subtly revealed the sophisticated taste of its owner.

The lighting outside had been dim, so it wasn't until now that I had a moment to properly look at Vivian.

She was wearing a silk slip dress with a trench coat draped over it.

Even though she hadn't heavily styled herself, it still showed off her excellent taste, and... her figure.

I used my phone flashlight to look down the drain and found it was clogged with long hair.

My mind flashed back to how Hazel dealt with drains. She usually asked me to hand her a disposable chopstick to fish the hair out.

"Do you have any disposable chopsticks?"

After using a chopstick to clear out the hair stuck in the pipe, the water flowed down much smoother.

"Arthur, if it weren't for you, I really wouldn't have known what to do."

I dusted off my hands, ignoring the ache in my lower back, and feigned a relaxed tone. "It might not be completely clear. I'll bring some drain cleaner over tomorrow to dissolve the rest, and it'll be good as new."

"I couldn't trouble you like that! Just tell me the name of the brand, and I'll go buy it myself."

Hazel handled all that stuff at home, how the hell was I supposed to know the brand name?

But I obviously couldn't say that to Vivian.

"It's no trouble, I have some at home. How can I let a lady deal with this? By the way, where is your husband?"

Vivian frowned. "Him? He travels for work constantly. Whenever he leaves, he's gone for half a month."

I felt a surge of smug pride. I was definitely a much better husband than hers.

Having a husband around to help out should make Hazel secretly thrilled, yet she actually blamed me for missing a package code.

"You've worked hard, Arthur. Come have some fruit."

Vivian invited me to sit in the living room.

The matching tea set held a clear, aromatic tea, and the cherries and strawberries in the fruit bowl looked plump and tempting.

Taking a sip of tea and a bite of a cherry, I leaned back into the soft sofa and sighed in satisfaction.

This was living.

What kind of miserable life was I living with Hazel?

I complimented Vivian on how clean and comfortable her place was.

She blushed and said that since she was a stay-at-home wife, keeping the place spotless made it more comfortable to live in.

I pretended to ask casually, "So, how much allowance does your husband give you?"

Vivian froze, frowned in thought for a moment, and said, "About four thousand, maybe? I don't really keep track of the finances..."

She sounded vague.

I understood perfectly.

Her husband probably gave her less than $4,000, and she was too embarrassed to admit it, so she kept it vague.