I Saw The Comments Calling Me Evil And Realized I Was Pregnant Chapter 12
Three years later.
My beauty salon had opened three branches and become a well-known local chain brand.
Nash’s company had also gone public, making him a centibillionaire.
Our son was three now, smart and adorable, except he absolutely hated durians.
Every time I ate a durian, he would cover his nose, run away, and yell, “Mommy stinks!”
Nash would just laugh, “Just like your mom, a picky eater.”
I glared at him, “When was I ever a picky eater?”
“Right around the time you got pregnant. You wanted a durian every single day, but when I bought it, you refused to eat it and insisted on returning it.”
“That was me being considerate!”
“Yeah. Considerate in a way that broke my heart.”
[Still this sweet after all these years!]
[The villainess really turned her life around, from a high-maintenance drama queen to a total boss lady!]
[This is what a real leading lady looks like!]
One day, while organizing some old belongings, I dug up the two pregnancy tests from back then.
The two lines were still there.
I stared at them for a long time, remembering how my legs had gone soft on the toilet that day, and recalling the comments that said I would die and my child would be abused.
And now?
I was alive, my child was healthy, my husband loved me, and I had a successful career.
None of the endings those comments predicted had come true.
“What are you thinking about?” Nash wrapped his arms around me from behind.
“I was wondering what would have happened if I hadn’t returned that durian that day.”
“There are no ifs,” his chin rested on my shoulder, “You will always be the Khloe who returned that durian. Because you knew exactly what two hundred dollars meant to me back then.”
I smiled.
Yes, back then, two hundred dollars was hard-earned blood money for him while he was doing hard labor.
For the man he was now, it was a drop in the bucket.
But regardless of whether he had money or not, I never wanted to waste his hard work.
“Nash.”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
He froze for a second.
This was the very first time I had initiated saying those words.
He turned me around, cupping my face in his hands and looking at me earnestly.
“Say it again.”
“I love you.”
“Again.”
“I love you, I love you, I love you.”
He kissed me. Deeply and with fierce intensity.
One last comment drifted by: [The End. Thank you for reading. May everyone be treated with kindness.]
After that day, I never saw the comments again.
I suppose the system figured I didn’t need it anymore.
That evening, the three of us sat in the garden eating durians.
Our son covered his nose and ran away, “Mommy stinks! Daddy stinks too!”
Nash and I exchanged a look and laughed.
“Stubborn kid,” I said, scooping a spoonful of durian into my mouth. “When you grow up, you’ll understand. Some things stink, but they taste sweet.”
Nash chipped in, “Just like your mom.”
“Who are you calling stinky?”
“I’m saying you’re sweet.”
The sound of our son’s laughter and the sweet scent of durians filled the garden.
This was my ending.
Not a disposable character, not a villainess.
Just Khloe, Nash’s Khloe.