Even If You Beg Me a Thousand Times, I’ll Never Return to a Bastard Like You

Six years after our divorce, I ran into Jeffrey at a cake shop.

The moment he walked in, the shop assistant greeted him with a familiar smile. "Professor Johnson, are you here to get strawberry cake for your wife again? Same as always, right? I'll wrap it up for you."

Jeffrey simply nodded.

Then, when he saw the two packed mango cakes in my hand, he told the waiter. "Please, add hers to my bill."

I politely refused as I took out my card to pay, but he was faster and swiped his card first.