Chapter 3My Wife Was Obsessed With Buying Cheap Junk on Temu

On my way home from work today, I saw a young girl selling roses on the street.

Three stems for $5.

I remembered the bouquet of roses I saw in Vivian's apartment.

Bright and pleasing to the eye.

I figured I'd bring a bouquet back for Hazel.

Three stems looked incredibly pathetic, so I gritted my teeth and bought six for $10.

I didn't even ask the girl for change.

It hurt my wallet a little.

This little trinket that women liked cost me half a pack of cigarettes.

When I got home, Hazel was cooking in the kitchen.

I walked over, wanting to surprise her:

"Hazel, look what I bought you!"

I expected to see stars in her eyes.

Just like the way Vivian looked at me the other day.

Hazel only glanced at it once before turning her head back to violently clanging her spatula in the pan.

"Why did you buy these? You can't eat them, you can't wear them... what a waste of money."

Before she could finish, I had already lost the patience to listen.

I threw the flowers on the dining table and went straight to the bathroom.

When I came out, Hazel was humming a little tune, arranging the roses.

Unfortunately, she was clumsy and lacked any sense of romance. No matter how she arranged them, they didn't look nearly as good as Vivian's.

But I wasn't planning on saying that out loud.

Hearing my footsteps, she turned around and happily said to me, "Honey, look at my new shirt, $3.99! It's so soft and comfortable!"

The pink T-shirt wasn't fitted at all, making Hazel look washed-out and bulky.

Cheap Temu junk again!

I felt insulted.

I gave her $4,000 a month for living expenses, and she buys a $3.99 piece of trash to wear in front of me.

It was the same $4,000. How come other men's wives dressed themselves up to look sophisticated and gorgeous, while my wife walked around every day looking like a starving peasant?

My face instantly darkened. "Can you stop buying this cheap garbage? Look at what you're wearing! Is that a rag?"

Hazel froze, instinctively taking two steps forward. "I thought it was pretty nice... Let's just eat first. Your mom picked up Leo today, so I made your favorite fried catfish."

The overwhelming fishy smell radiating off her clothes made me want to gag. I took a step back.

"What is nice about it?!"

"You buy this trash every single day! Do I not give you enough money?!"

I pointed at the garbage bags in the corner. "150 bags, 200 bags, who cares! You ignored your own kid over a few cents worth of trash bags! Hazel, I'm not trying to lecture you, but as a person, you shouldn't be so petty. Think bigger!"

"And how many times have I told you to buy decent shampoo for the house? You buy the cheap stuff every time. How am I supposed to go meet clients looking like this?"

"And $2.99 underwear! You actually dare to wear that? Aren't you afraid of getting an infection?"

"Hazel, stop looking for ways to suffer when you don't have to! People who don't know any better would think I married a homeless beggar!"

The more I spoke, the angrier I got. I wanted to smash all the low-quality junk in the house to pieces.

Hazel stared at me blankly, her face full of disbelief.

Her large eyes brimmed with tears.

After venting all my frustrations in one breath, I felt much better.

Even the ugly shirt on her looked slightly less offensive.

I sighed internally, preparing to soothe her a bit.

After all, Hazel still had plenty of good qualities. She never made me worry about any of the household chores.

I cleared my throat and softened my tone. "Hazel, can't you learn a thing or two from Vivian downstairs? Stop buying cheap junk."

Hazel trembled all over.

Afraid she was going to start a fight with me again, I quickly added, "What I mean is, life should have a little romance, right? You should put some effort into dressing up instead of looking like an old, worn-out housewife all day."

As soon as the words left my mouth.

Hazel suddenly burst into loud laughter.

I honestly worried she had gone crazy.

"Hahahaha, Arthur Bennett, do you really think it's because I don't want to dress up? Stop flattering yourself!"

She looked me dead in the eye, her lips quivering:

"Let's get a divorce."