Make Him, Ruin Him

The first time I mentioned that necklace to Leo, the warm yellow light wrapped around the scattered diamonds. My fingertips touched the cold glass as I casually said, "It's really beautiful." At that moment, Leo Lincoln was holding my hand; the calluses on his fingertips rubbed against my palm, making it tingle. He didn't look at the necklace, only at the side of my face, his voice as soft as a feather: "If you like it, I'll buy it for you." At that time, he had just graduated and was working in sales at a small company, with a base salary of 3,500. The necklace cost 38,000 — nearly a year's salary for him. I thought it was just a casual promise, so I didn't take it to heart. After all, we were living in a rented room then, and in the summer, we couldn't even afford to keep the air conditioning on all night. But on our anniversary three months later, he actually put the necklace around my neck. He lifted his head as if presenting a treasure, the light in his eyes brighter than scattered diamonds: "Viola, you look best wearing this." I felt the warmth of the necklace and only then noticed the scab on the side of his left hand. After pressing him for a long time, I finally learned that he had gone to deliver food at night and slipped on the wet road in the rain. My nose instantly tingled with emotion. I took off the necklace and handed it to him: "I don't want it anymore, just return it." But he held my hand firmly and fastened the clasp again: "You deserve the best." Back then, it felt like Leo Lincoln's eyes held only me. I worked overtime until ten, and he waited downstairs at the company for two hours, holding a warm pearl milk tea. When I was curled up in bed in pain from my period, he clumsily made brown sugar ginger tea and burned his hand red. As soon as he got paid, he handed me his card: "You manage the money." I always joked with my friends that Leo was my personal assistant. If I said east, he wouldn't go west. If I wanted to eat buns from the south side of the city, he would run half an hour to buy them. At the pre-wedding party, our friends teased him, "Leo, are you afraid of Viola?" He was peeling small lobsters for me, then looked up and smiled, showing his tiger teeth: "My wife's the boss." Someone teased, "Then what exactly are you to her?" I teased him on purpose: "Leo Lincoln is my shadow, ready to answer whenever I call." He didn't deny it, leaning close to my ear and whispering, "Right, for a lifetime." I truly believed him back then. I assured my parents that although Leo Lincoln was poor, he treated me well and was someone I could trust. At first, my parents disagreed, thinking we came from unequal social backgrounds. But I wouldn't take no for an answer. Eventually, they not only relented but even gave money to help Leo start his business. My dad provided the startup capital, and my mom used her connections to help him build his network. Leo Lincoln proved himself—sharp and determined; the company was thriving within just three years. We moved from a rented apartment to a spacious flat downtown and traded the electric scooter for a sedan. Leo became known as Mr. Lincoln in the business circle, and I was called Mrs. Lincoln, the fortunate wife. At every banquet, he would hold my hand tightly and introduce me: "This is my wife, Viola Scott." When others praised him for cherishing his wife, he'd smile and say, "Without Viola, I wouldn't be where I am today." I too was once lost in that happiness, believing I hadn't misjudged him. Until the night of the charity gala, when I saw Vivian White. Vivian White is a university student I have sponsored for three years; she studies design, and I even helped her secure an internship. She stood among the crowd in a pink gown—not because she was beautiful, but because of the necklace around her neck—it was exactly the same as mine. Even the angle of the pendant was identical to how I usually wear mine. My heart skipped a beat, trying to convince myself it was just a coincidence. But as I got closer, I glimpsed the bracelet on her wrist. That was my birthday last year. Leo Lincoln gave me that gift. I thought it was too heavy, wore it once, then put it away in the jewelry box. How could it now be in her hands?